


If I Die Young

by GalaxySupernova (0bviousLeigh)



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Coping With Impending Death, Copious Amounts Of Swearing, Fix-It, Other, end game Oscar/Cam, tastefully done i hope, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-26 22:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20397349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0bviousLeigh/pseuds/GalaxySupernova
Summary: If Oscar's going to die, he's doing several things first. Cam's coming along for the ride.





	1. A Penny for my Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello. I've been working on this since October 2018.

Contrary to popular belief, Oscar isn’t stupid. Okay, so his mother managed to keep from him that he was dying for two years, but one thing she hasn’t managed to keep from him is his bank account. Oscar found the folder with his savings account information three years ago, when he went looking for his birth certificate. So Oscar knows his account number, and he knows that as of three years ago the account had almost 15 grand in it. What he doesn’t know his how to get his hands on it.

Just like his parents can force him into a medical trial because he’s a minor, they can also control his savings, and as a minor he has to figure that it’ll be suspicious if he goes into a bank and asks for his account to be emptied—or to withdraw $9,000, because if he takes more than ten thousand then the bank has to report it to the IRS (thank you, Google).

There’s always the Quartermaines, he’s one of them which means he’s got to have some kind of claim to their money, but he can’t imagine that being any easier to get his hands on. The house is full of expensive items, he could always try to pawn something, but the thought of stealing from his grandma, who has been nothing but kind to him, makes him sick to his stomach.

And once he gets the money, he still has to find a way to get out of the country without being stopped. He can leave from Newark and be in Nairobi 24 hour later, but he’ll have to show his passport to get on the plane, which means that once his parents know he’s missing, they’ll know where he went, and he already told his dad that he wants to go to Mount Kilimanjaro.

The funny thing is, Josslyn probably could have helped him with that. She may not be in the mob or actively paying attention to what Sonny does, but she probably could have gotten contact information for someone who could make him a passable fake ID and passport.

As it is, he’s going to have to stick with Cameron.

“What the hell do you want?” Cam snaps as he answers his phone. “It’s fucking midnight!”

“Did I wake you?” Oscar asks sarcastically.

“I showed Joss the picture and she’s properly heartbroken,” Cam says.

“Not why I called,” Oscar says, trying to ignore how his heart twists. “Do you have a fake ID?”

“Why do you care?”

“I need one,” He holds himself back from adding ‘stupid’—not a good idea to insult the guy he’s asking for help from. “And a passport.”

“What the hell for?”

“Well, if I’m dying I want to do things first,” Oscar says, “And since there’s no way my mom will let me, I’ll have to do it myself and do it without her tracking me.”

A few seconds of silence follow, enough that Oscar wonders if Cam hung up on him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Cam finally asks.

“I wish,” Oscar says bitterly.

“What—but you can’t just—where the hell are you going?” Cam sputters.

“If I tell you are you going to narc on me?”

“Don’t say that word you absolute geek.”

“Do you know someone who can help me or not?”

“I’m getting real sick of being your errand boy, here.”

“I’ll pay you.”

Cam hesitates.

Oscar continues, “I’m trying to get my hands on my savings, but right now I have three hundred, maybe a little more. If you can get me the ID and passport I’ll give it to you, you can have whatever’s left.”

“What makes you think that’s enough?”

Is it not enough? Oscar digs his nails into his palm, how expensive can a fake passport be? “Look, I said I’m trying to get more, I’ll give you a couple hundred once it’s done, okay?”

“This is insane,” Cam says. “Why the hell are you doing this?”

“Cam, answer my fucking question,” Oscar snarls through gritted teeth, finally losing his patience.

“I’ll ask around, Jesus,” Cam says. “Don’t have a stroke.”

“I’ll do my best,” Oscar says, and he hangs up, feeling a headache building. God, dealing with Cam is a nightmare, he wishes he had other delinquents he could ask for help. Why does Cam have to judge him for it, anyway? What does he care if Oscar leaves the country?

Oscar rubs a hand over his face. Whatever, he’s asked the question, soon he’ll know if it’s even possible for him to leave. After that, he can worry about the other ten million things he’ll have to do for this to work out.

After his mom leaves for work, Oscar heads out. He’s antsy, there’s not much he can do right now but sitting at home is awful, it’s like he can physically feel time ticking away. So he heads to the Quartermaines’, maybe his cousins will be there and he can play with them for a little while.

When he rings the bell, it’s actually Michael who answers.

“Oscar, hey,” he says, sounding surprised. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Why aren’t you in work?” Oscar fires back, trying to smile. “It’s okay, my mom knows. I wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

“So you thought you’d share your germs?” Michael asks, stepping back to let him in.

“What else is family for?” Oscar asks. “Are the kids around?”

“No, they went to the stables,” Michael says. “They should be back soon, though.”

Oscar follows Michael into the sitting room. “Is it cool if I hang here?”

“Be my guest,” Michael says, “It’s your house, too.”

Michael sits at his desk, laptop open, and Oscar takes the sofa. For a minute he messes around on his phone, and then he suddenly realizes that Michael must know something about money.

“Hey, are you…” he starts, whirling around, “Um, can I ask you something?”

Michael looks up from his computer. “What’s up?”

“How does investing work?” Oscar asks.

“How does it work?” Michael echoes.

“I mean, I know it’s like, you give a company some money and then they’re supposed to pay you back with interest, but how does one even go about becoming an investor?”

Michael looks surprised. “I…wow, where did this come from?”

He’s got to keep the conversation on money, and how to get it in his control. “It’s just…I heard a lot of talk about how I have a stake in the Quartermaine money and stuff, and I know that everyone’s big on investing, so I wondered if I should get in on it, or if I’m too young to start.”

“I don’t think you’re too young,” Michael says.

Oscar’s mind races, and he lays it on thick. “I read a lot about startups, like for clean energy and bulletproof backpacks. There’s all sorts of things that I’m interested in, things that maybe I wouldn’t expect the Quartermaines to take an interest in because it’s really high risk, but what if I wanted to make a small investment, like with my own savings?”

“That sounds like something you’d want to talk to your mom about,” Michael says, and Oscar panics briefly.

“Well I would, but she says I’m too young to worry about it. It’s just stuff that means a lot to me, you know? I’m not talking investing thousands of dollars here, not unless like, that’s a thing I would have to do, but that’s why I’m asking. And I know that not everything works out, but our family is proof that sometimes it does, right? So since I’m a minor, do I need to worry about, you know, getting my mom’s permission for investing, or withdrawing money from my savings to invest?”

He needs to shut up, he needs to stop babbling, he’s probably lost Michael already.

Michael closes his laptop and stands. “Well if you’re really interested, come with me and I’ll show you some of my own investments and talk you through how I did what I did.”

Oscar grins—is this actually going to work? Can he wheedle out of Michael a way to get his hands on some money? “Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to distract you.”

“I could use a distraction,” Michael says. “Just let me know if I’m boring you, okay?”

“I doubt you will.” After all, nerdy cousin Oscar absolutely doesn’t have any ulterior motives here.

Oscar goes home with his head spinning from all he’s learned, most of it useless to him, but he did get what he wanted, and then some. He can forge a note with his mom’s signature on it, take it to the bank and get some money from his savings, but even better is the few blank checks that Michael gave him.

“I’m trusting you not to go crazy,” Michael said as he contacted the bank and had Oscar’s name put on the list of people allowed to make withdrawals. “I know you’re a responsible kid and you really just seem more curious than anything.”

Oscar still feels a little guilty, but he pushes the feeling away. He’s not looking to bankrupt the Quartermaines, he just wants to see some of the world before he dies.

And Oscar is glad that he’s safely at home and alone, because the second he thinks about _that_ his whole body freezes and he feels the blood drain from his face. He stumbles to the sofa and sits before his knees give out. He puts his head down and takes deep, even breaths. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to have a consistent reaction to that thought. Sometimes he bursts into tears, sometimes he just feels numb, and then sometimes he nearly passes out.

_‘Two years,’_ he thinks bitterly. He could have done so much, not even big things like he’s planning now—he could have come to terms with his short life, he could have paid more attention to the things he wanted to, watched the TV shows he’d been putting off or eaten a damn extra serving of ice cream for heaven’s sake. Even if doctors thought chemo couldn’t help him, he could have tried it! He’d lived for two years without it, maybe in that time it could have done something. Maybe he could have started a blog that would tug on heartstrings and bring experts together to help him.

He manages to push away the overwhelming feeling that his world is ending and gather his senses. Two years went by, but that’s why it’s so important for him to not go to pieces right now—he’s got to seize the time he has left and goddamnit, he’s not going to let his parents put him in this trial so he can be cooped up in a hospital bed for some treatment that only _might_ help him.

A knock at the door makes him jump so badly he almost falls off the couch—so much for pulling himself together.

“Who is it?” He yelps.

“Oscar? It’s Cam.”

Oscar stands up and his head spins. He’s sweating, he wipes his forehead and then rubs his hands on his pants. He opens the door and the smug look fades from Cam’s face.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Fine, just dying,” Oscar snaps. He shouldn’t have said that, now he wants to puke. “What do you want?”

“Are you going to be sick?”

Quite possibly. “I say again, what—” Oscar clamps his mouth shut and bolts for the kitchen sink. Thank god, it’s empty.

Being sick is never fun, and it’s worse being sick in front of Cam, who already thinks he’s a wimp. It feels like it takes forever for the nausea to pass. Oscar turns on the faucet and the garbage disposal and watches the mess swirl away. He rinses his mouth and even sticks his head under the water. He wishes he had made it to the bathroom, he’s got to clean the sink now. That makes him laugh—he’s dying, and he’s going to waste 20 minutes of his life cleaning the kitchen sink.

“Dude,” Cam says.

Oscar looks up. “Oh, you’re still here?”

Cam looks shell shocked. “Is that…did you…”

“I’m not dropping dead right now,” Oscar snaps. He wishes Cam would put the pity away, he liked that Cam didn’t treat him like a dying person. “This isn’t because of the tumor, it’s just me being a wuss and panicking.” He tears a paper towel off the roll—his hands are shaking—and wipes his face. “What are you doing here?”

Cam seems to recover. “I came for the money. You know, for your illegal stuff.”

“You found someone to do it?”

Cam nods. “I mean, I know what the guy can do and it looks pretty good. Not sure it’ll really fool the FBI or anything, but…”

Oscar leaves before Cam can finish that thought. He’s got the money in his dresser, a whole mess of all different kinds of bills. He retrieves it, goes back to the kitchen and holds out the money. Cam takes it, and his face changes.

“What?” Oscar snaps at the look on Cam’s face. No longer shocked, or sorry, almost…in awe, if Oscar is being honest.

“You’re actually doing this,” he says. “You’re buying a fake passport. You…where are you going?”

Oscar hesitates. “Swear you won’t tell.”

“I swear.”

Well, nothing’s stopping Cam from telling anyway, but Oscar sighs and decides that he might as well say it. “I’m going to Mount Kilimanjaro.”

Cam’s eyes widen. “Get the fuck out of here, dude.”

“Oh shut up,” Oscar says. “Maybe it’s not the first place on your bucket list but I’ve always wanted to go. I wanted it to be with my dad, I wanted to watch a comet with him and maybe that’s fucking lame to you but I’m going and I’m going stare at the fucking stars without any lights around and I’m going to marvel at the vastness of space and it’s going to be fucking beautiful and poetic.”

Cam stares at him. Oscar has nothing more to say, so he lets the silence go on.

Finally, Cam clears his throat. “You…gonna come back or…like what are you going to do when you get there?”

Oscar didn’t expect that. “I…I don’t know.”

“Shit are you going to kill yourself?!” Cam shouts.

“No!” Oscar cries. “God that wasn’t—I wasn’t even thinking of that!”

“Because I would fucking kill you if you did that,” Cam continues. “Leave and never come back and, Joss may have, but she—why are you laughing?”

Oscar has burst out laughing. “You would kill me if I killed myself?” He wheezes.

Cam grins. “Dude, shut up.”

Oscar can’t shut up, he thinks he’s finally lost it. He laughs so hard he’s on the floor with it, he might be drooling. He might be crying.

He’s totally crying.

“Get out of my house,” Oscar manages to choke out.

Cam doesn’t leave. He sits down on the kitchen floor.

Oscar puts his head in his hands and tries to stop. A second breakdown in half an hour, god what is wrong with him? No, it’s all Cam’s fault for bringing up killing himself. Not like the thought didn’t cross his mind, both when he first found out and when he got it in his head to go to Africa in the first place. He thought about jumping off a bridge, he thought about taking a bunch of pills. He thought about just finding someplace beautiful and quiet on the mountain and doing it there, where no one could find him and save him. He wondered if it would be like the movies.

“Alright, pull yourself together,” Cam finally says.

“Fuck you,” Oscar spits.

“You’re the one going on about how you’ve got such a short life, that means you’ve got no time to waste,” Cam says. “And I bet a goody two-shoes like you has never actually planned running away from home before, so it’s lucky for you I have and know other people who have. Now tell me what exactly your plan is, because it better not just be getting on a plane, that’s not going to work.”

“What?” Oscar asks.

Cam rolls his eyes. “Oh my god. Blow your nose and drink something, this is going to take a while.”

The following day, Oscar meets Cam at some random dude’s house. Cam is already there, he lets Oscar in and escorts him down to the basement, which smells strongly of weed and is full of laptops and printers. The guy running the show directs Oscar to stand in front of a white wall.

“But first,” Cam says, and he rummages through his backpack and pulls out a button down shirt, a tie, and a pair of glasses. “Put these on.”

“Why?”

Cam rolls his eyes. “Just do it. And just throw the shirt on over your t-shirt, it’ll be fine.”

So Oscar does as he’s told, and then stands in front of the wall. The guy takes Oscar’s picture, and then says that the passport and ID will be ready by tomorrow.

“Perfect, we’re out,” Cam says, and he grabs Oscar by the arm and yanks him up the stairs and out of the house before Oscar even has time to take off his disguise.

“So when are you doing this?” Cam asks. “Like, leaving?”

Oscar takes off the glasses. “Um…soon?”

“God, you don’t make things easy. Give me a date, man.”

He’s not sure when the drug trial starts, he can’t wait too long. He flounders under the pressure. “This weekend?” It’s Tuesday, that doesn’t give him a lot of time.

“Okay,” Cam says. “What airport, Newark?”

Oscar nods. “How’d you know?”

“I borrowed a friend’s phone and looked up flights to JRO. It’s okay, it works out. I have a plan.”

“You have a plan?” Oscar repeats.

Cam nods. “There’s no way you’re getting out of the country in the time it’ll take for your mom to notice you’re gone. That’s where the plan comes in—we’re going to New York.”

“We?! We’re going to New York?” Oscar’s starting to feel like a parrot.

“Yes, we. As everyone knows, I’m not a great student, so I’m going to the Museum of Natural History and doing a report on…fucking something to boost my grade, since it’s already shit. I’ll have to stay the night, I might need two days to get the information to write a proper report. And my mom won’t let me go alone, but at this point I’m positive she knows you have cancer and it’s why she wants me to be nice to you. Hence, I’m inviting you along because you like nerdy stuff and will certainly keep me in check.”

“We just had a fight, your mom knows it.”

Cam waves his hand. “Guys being dudes, water under the bridge as far as she knows. She’s probably calling your mom right now to make sure it’s okay.”

“Okay…” Oscar says slowly. “And…then what?”

“Well, we leave early on Saturday and get to New York, we probably should go to the museum in case the police check security cameras once your mom can’t find you. After that, there’s no reason anyone will be the wiser until Sunday morning, plenty of time for you to disappear.”

That’s…actually kind of smart. “What happens when you go home without me?”

“That’s for me to worry about, I’ll figure it out,” Cam says. “Now give me back my shirt and tie but keep the glasses—hidden for god’s sake, they’re part of your disguise. Now, talk to me about money, what’s the plan?”

Oscar manages to keep an even tone when his mom brings up the trip to the city. “I don’t like the idea of you and Cam being there alone.”

“It’s for one night,” Oscar says, “Plenty of kids do it, and we won’t be alone, we’ll be together the whole time. Cam’s not going to screw things up with his mom, and I’m not going to go off and act crazy.”

She still looks hesitant. Oscar wants to scream at her, ‘let me go, give me this, I have to do it,’ but he takes a deep breath and instead says, “When I come back I’ll…I’ll talk to Dr. Randolph about the experimental treatment.”

His mom finally agrees.

* * *

Cam gets into Franco’s car, slamming the door harder than necessary.

“Easy,” Franco says.

“Sorry,” Cam snaps. He slumps down in the seat and glowers at his knees.

“What happened?” Franco asks tiredly.

“Nothing!” Cam says. “It’s…it’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously something. What happened, bad grade? Fight with a friend?”

Cam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s…I think someone stole my phone.”

“You think…when?”

“I don’t know, okay? It was in my bag all day and I try not to leave my bag alone but I guess I wasn’t careful enough.” He sighs again. “I know mom’s going to kill me because it was expensive, and I don’t know if she’ll let me go to New York this weekend, and Oscar definitely can’t go then because his mom doesn’t want him to go alone. He was looking forward to it, and it’s just all completely unfair.”

He’s laying it on kind of thick, but he knows the second he drops Oscar’s name he has Franco’s attention.

“How much is a new phone?”

“I don’t know, mine was few hundred dollars.” He groans. “Mom is so going to kill me.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to know,” Franco says. He reaches into his pocket, takes out his wallet and hands Cam a credit card. “I’ll drop you at the mall, get the exact same phone, and don’t let it happen again.”

Cam doesn’t have to fake his smile. “For real?”

“Yeah just…look out for Oscar this weekend.”

“Dude, will do,” Cam promises. This couldn’t have worked out better.

* * *

Cam shows up on Friday after school and bosses Oscar around. “Don’t bring your laptop, don’t have anything on your phone that you care about because you’re ditching it and may never see it again, I haven’t decided if it’s staying in the hotel room or going in a river somewhere. Also bring your passport, your real one, even if you don’t use it to get to Africa you’re going to need your parents to realize it’s missing. Don’t pack more than you can put in a backpack, you’ll go shopping in the city. You have the money?”

Oscar nods. It was easier than he expected, Cam helped him forge his mother’s signature on a note and he had the majority of the money moved to the Quartermaines’ bank. After that it was a simple matter of writing out an amount on the checks. He has more than enough to do whatever he wants, not just in Africa but anywhere else he may decide to go.

“Good,” Cam says. “Don’t fucking lose it.”

That night, mom makes dinner and invites Drew—dad—over. Oscar fights back tears of anger as he forces himself to act like he’s accepted everything. His dad hands him a credit card and tells him to buy whatever he wants at the museum, go shopping, treat himself and Cam to dinner. His mom looks appalled, but Oscar thanks him profusely and promises not to be a big spender.

Lies, all lies. He’s disgusted with himself for a few seconds, before the words ‘two years’ come back to him. He’s going to Mount Kilimanjaro goddamnit.

* * *

Franco drops Cam and Oscar off at the train station early on Saturday morning. Oscar is nervous, and tired—he didn’t sleep at all last night, he was excited and nervous and wracked with guilt. He kind of wanted to leave his mom a note, but he was worried she would find it before he left. So he takes a notebook with him and plans to spend the train ride writing so he can give Cam the note when they part ways. Unfortunately, he ends up in the city with an empty page.

Upon arriving at Grand Central, they hop in a cab and head for their hotel. They check in, Oscar unloads his cash into the room safe, and they leave for the museum. It’s only a few blocks from the hotel, so they walk.

“Have you been before?” Oscar asks.

“Huh?” Cam asks. He and Oscar have barely spoken since they left that morning.

“To the museum.”

“Few years ago there was a class trip. It’s okay, I like the dioramas and all that. Not a big fan of all the reading.”

“I’ve never been,” Oscar says.

Cam looks at his watch. “Ugh, you’re going to want to spend the whole day, aren’t you? Fine, whatever, I’ll leave early and get your stuff.”

“You will?”

“Again, someone has to make sure this works out.”

They arrive at the museum not long after it opens, but it’s already packed. Oscar buys the tickets, paying for three shows for both of them even though he’s not sure _he’s_ even going to see them, he might just wander the museum all day.

“I’ll stay for an hour,” Cam says. “We might as well stick together. And I’m not going to the planetarium, you’re already going to see the stars and for god’s sake you can’t leave without seeing the dinosaurs.”

So that’s where they head to first. And Oscar has to admit he probably would have skipped it, but he’s glad Cam made him go—the fossils are pretty incredible. Cam pulls Oscar in front of a triceratops skeleton and holds up his phone.

“Smile,” he instructs. He takes a picture of Oscar alone, and then makes him pose for a selfie together.

“Why?”

“So my mom doesn’t think we’re killing each other and knows we’re together at the museum,” Cam says, already texting his mom.

Cam leaves shortly after that. “Meet me at the hotel,” he says, and then he disappears.

But alone, the gravity of what he’s about to do hits Oscar. He walks around the museum, trying to absorb it all, but the whole time he’s thinking that this could be his last day in New York, or even in America at all. What if he decides not to come back? What if he simply can’t, what if he dies before he makes up his mind?

After a few hours, Oscar finally stops avoiding the Planetarium. Honestly, he wanted to come here with Josslyn. But she’s better off not knowing, not seeing him die. Oscar walks along the bridge detailing the birth of the universe and the formation of the planets. Billions of years of history condensed into a 20-minute walk. Oscar’s sixteen years of life amounts to a speck of dust in this timeline, probably not even that much. The universe doesn’t care that he’s dying, that he imagined a whole future for himself only to find out that it wasn’t possible. ‘Inoperable brain tumor,’ his mom had said. He doesn’t know why chemo wouldn’t have worked and why she didn’t want to try it. Was it really because it wouldn’t have worked? Was it because she was so determined to keep him from knowing that she sacrificed the opportunity? He doesn’t want to think that of his own mother, but she’s known for two years, and yeah he’s had lots of tests but no actual treatments. If it was that hopeless, why didn’t she let him choose how to live his life? Why did she introduce him to family that he’d never get to know? Well, he was the one who had gone looking. Even so…

Oscar thinks of Scout. He’s been trying not to, because it makes him want to cry. Avery is growing up without a big brother, Josslyn told him that she knows she had a brother named Morgan and he’s dead, but she’s too young to remember him. Scout will grow up not knowing him.

Oscar finds a place to sit. He gets out his notebook and starts writing a letter to Scout.

When Oscar gets back to the hotel room, it looks like a department store has exploded. “What the fuck?” Oscar asks, looking at the fancy bags full of clothes, the carry-on bags and rugged backpacks (plural), and shoeboxes from a hiking goods store.

“Oh, finally!” Cam shouts, emerging from the bathroom. Oscar chokes on his own tongue—Cam’s shaved one side of his head! Okay he didn’t shave it, but he cut the hair on the right side of his head super short, and on the other side he has a few blonde streaks. It actually looks kind of good, not that Oscar would ever say that.

“Dude,” he manages.

“Get in the bathroom,” Cam says, “We haven’t got a whole lot of time.”

“What? Time for what?” Oscar asks, but he listens anyway. There’s a bottle on the sink surrounded by empty packets.

“We’re bleaching your hair,” Cam says.

“No we’re not! I don’t…what the hell, man?”

“Don’t worry you won’t be blonde,” Cam says, rolling his eyes, “Just enough to make it lighter. You don’t want to be recognized, do you?”

“By who?”

“The fucking FBI, genius! Now hold still, I’ve only done this once.”

“What?! Whose hair did you bleach?”

“Dennis,” Cam says shortly. “It was a wild summer. Now shut up and sit,” he says, pointing at the edge of the tub.

Well, Cam hasn’t lead him wrong yet. He sits on the edge of the tub. Cam drapes a towel around his shoulders, puts on a pair of gloves, and starts squirting bleach on Oscar’s head.

“Why’d you shave your hair?” Oscar asks.

“Same reason, duh,” Cam says.

“What? Who’s recognizing you?”

“The fucking FBI, genius,” Cam repeats.

Oscar’s getting a funny feeling. “Cam…”

“Oscar,” Cam answers.

“You’re not fucking coming with me.”

“Yes I fucking am.”

“No, you’re not,” Oscar says, raising his hands to shove Cam away, but Cam leans back and holds the bottle of bleach in Oscar’s face.

“Move and I will shoot this in your eyes and we’ll see how well you see stars.”

Oscar stills. Cam goes back to messing with his hair.

“You can’t come,” he tries. “People will know you’re with me, they’ll find us.”

“It’s actually less conspicuous to be traveling with someone than alone, especially for you.”

“I can’t afford it,” Oscar says.

“The fuck you can’t,” Cam scoffs. “Besides, I have five thousand dollars with me.”

“The fuck?! Your mom’s a nurse!”

“Yeah, and Franco made her birthday his safe password,” Cam says. “Don’t worry, he’s not going to suspect anything. He’s probably not even going to check the safe until well after we’re in the air.”

“Why would you want to come with me?” Oscar asks, desperate now. “Don’t you want to get back to Joss?”

Cam covers Oscar’s head in plastic and then leans back. “Look, once you go missing your face is going to be all over the news, and it’ll come out that you have cancer. I can spin whatever tale I want to my mom, your mom, and the cops, but Joss will figure out that I knew and never forgive me for letting you go fuck off around Africa alone. However, if she knows I made sure you survived your bucket list trip, she’ll probably speak to me again by the time I’m 21.”

“Fucking fantastic for you,” Oscar grumbles.

“Hey, be grateful okay? I’ve got us hooked up. I’ve got visas, I’ve got disguises, I’ve got a backstory, and I’ve got a plan.” He yanks the gloves off and tosses them in a shopping bag. “I’ve got hats so we can cover our new hairstyles, as soon as you’re all done we’re going to the bus station and buying two tickets to LA on your dad’s credit card, and after that we’re coming back here and changing, and then we’re booking it to Newark and getting the hell out of here. Not sure our parents will believe that we were dumb enough to leave such an obvious trail, but they probably are going to hope that we just wanted to fuck off for a few days instead of a week. You know it takes a week to hike that damn mountain of yours? And you need a shit ton of stuff, did you get a yellow fever vaccination? I don’t think you really need one but I got one.”

“When did you do that?!”

“Like, Thursday,” Cam says, shrugging. “Went to a new doctor, paid cash. So did you?”

“Yeah,” Oscar mutters, “After my mom told me the truth.”

“Perfect. I got us phones, too,” Cam laughs. “I thought waving cash around an Apple store would raise questions but nah, nobody gives a crap in New York, I love it here. Obviously the phones aren’t activated but once we land in Africa we can get like, a basic prepaid plan. They’ll take pictures, and no one can track us with them.”

“You planned this,” Oscar says, dumbfounded.

“One of us had to,” Cam says. He starts gathering the hair dye material and dumps them in the same plastic bag.

“No, you like…holy cow, how long have you been planning to come with me?”

Cam glances at his watch. “Rinse your hair, it should be just a bit lighter now.” He leaves, and Oscar hurriedly does as he’s told. He hesitates to look in the mirror, unsure of what he’ll see, but it didn’t turn out that bad. Hopefully it’s enough to keep airport staff from connecting him to a soon-to-be missing cancer patient.

Oscar leaves the bathroom and Cam a plain, black baseball cap at him. Cam’s already wearing a beanie and it does a good job of hiding his haircut. Oscar puts the hat on and checks his reflection—no one should be able to tell.

“Let’s go,” Cam says. “Take your phone.”

They head outside and hop on the train. Cam throws the bleach and other supplies away in the subway trash.

“How did you know what to do?” Oscar asks.

“I’ve been wanting to do something like this since my mom’s first failed wedding to Franco,” Cam says bitterly. “I researched, dude. Talked to other kids who ran away, watched movies, watched PSAs from paranoid parents—those ‘keep your kids safe’ things are like blueprints on how to vanish.”

Oscar has nothing to say to that. It’s a long ride, he’s just glad he has his iPod and can have an excuse not to talk to Cam. Actually…

“D’you think this can be tracked?” Oscar asks Cam, holding up the iPod.

Cam shakes his head. “It’s older, so it’s doubtful. Just keep it on airplane mode for the rest of your life.”

Oscar feels like he’s going to puke at those words, so he clenches his jaw shut and says nothing until they’re at the bus station and approaching a ticketing kiosk.

“Now what?” Oscar asks.

Cam rolls his eyes. “You have the card. Follow the prompts. Pick a bus that leaves tomorrow morning.”

Oscar does as he’s told, and he hopes the credit card company doesn’t call his dad. When the tickets print, Cam snatches them and then they turn around and head back out of the terminal. They join the line of people waiting for a cab, and Cam grins at Oscar.

“See? Easy.”

So far.

Back at the hotel, Cam gestures to the bags and new hiking gear. “Let’s get packed. We’re going to show up at the airport with the suitcases and backpacks and we’re not wearing the hiking gear, the backstory is that we’re just two rich kids with nothing better to do than take off for Mount Kilimanjaro for shits and giggles. If you can’t get into that headspace then let me do the talking.”

Oscar nods. Cam hands him a pair of glasses with fancy frames and an equally fancy outfit. “Get changed, shower if you want, who knows when we’ll next get a proper one.”

Oscar follows that advice, and by the time he’s done Cam has the bags packed and the room mostly cleaned up. Cam stuffs the real passports into an envelope, addressed to fake-passport guy in Port Charles, and then he hands Oscar his new passport and ID.

“Your name is Noah, mine is Evan. Get used to it.”

Oscar doesn’t have time to react before Cam is shutting the bathroom door in his face. Noah? Really? And where did he get the name Evan? Oscar looks at the ID and passport—they look pretty good to him, but he’s not a pro. God, he hopes this works, he doesn’t want to imagine what will happen if it doesn’t. Forget about being grounded, his mom is probably going to chain him to a hospital bed for the rest of his life if he gets caught.

* * *

At 11 PM Cam sends off goodnight texts to his own mom and to Oscar’s mom. They’re about to leave the hotel, just waiting for a good time to slip out the front door. Oscar feels like a kid in a costume, but Cam looks like he’s done this his whole life. He leans casually against a wall, sunglasses on his head even though it’s dark out, and Oscar barely questions it. After sending the texts, Cam powers down both phones and wraps them and their parent’s credit cards in a plastic bag.

The concierge turns around, and Oscar and Cam leave. They stroll purposefully into Central Park, and Oscar tries not to jump at shadows, his mom’s warnings about the city at night ringing in his ears. It’s not far to the lake, once at the shoreline Cam finds a couple of rocks, stuffs them in the bag and then ties it off.

“How far you think I can throw it?” Cam asks.

“Just throw it as far as possible,” Oscar says.

“Killjoy,” Cam says. He steps back, winds up, and sends the bag flying. It lands at least 40 feet into the lake, and Oscar lets out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, off to Newark we go,” Cam says, sighing tiredly. “This is going to take forever.”

They can’t even sleep on the train—or they could, but it’s probably not a good idea. The car is mostly quiet, and the ride to the transit hub goes smoothly. Oscar is surprised at how busy the hub is, given that it’s midnight.

“City that never sleeps,” he muses.

They have to wait an hour for their train, but the ride isn’t too bad. It’s almost too easy, Oscar keeps waiting for someone to recognize him, even though he’s sure his mom doesn’t know he’s missing yet. But maybe she does, maybe her spidey senses are tingling and she’s trying to call him, getting no answer, and panicking.

“Dude I can hear you overthinking,” Cam says, “Chill out or you’ll draw attention.”

So Cam takes several deep breaths and tries to copy Cam’s relaxed posture. Cam rolls his eyes, but that’s nothing new.

Arriving at the airport sends a shiver down Oscar’s spine. Moment of truth, can they get plane tickets?

“Let me talk,” Cam hisses. Oscar nods.

Cam is all smiles as he walks up to the ticketing counter. “We want to get two one-ways to Kilimanjaro International Airport,” he says.

The attendant…doesn’t bat an eye. She looks at their clothes, sunglasses, bags, and smiles. “Hiking?”

Cam laughs. “No time like the present, as I was saying to my buddy over here,” he grins at Oscar. “He’s been betting I don’t make it two days. Cuts me to the core, honestly.”

“And I can’t interest you in round trip right away?”

Cam shakes his head. “Thanks, but we’re thinking we might stay awhile, enjoy the country, see if we can get a safari. You only live once.”

The ticket agent nods. “I assume you have done some reading on the hike?”

“Got our shots and visas,” Cam says. He slides the woman the fake IDs and passports.

“Amsterdam to Kilimanjaro International?”

Cam looks surprised. “Can we do that today? Any chance we can get business class?”

“You’re in luck,” the woman says, “The more expensive seats are underbooked this time of year.”

“No one rich has a sense of adventure in October?” Cam asks with a laugh.

The ticket agent grins. “Not this weekend, it seems. And how are you boys paying?”

Cam opens his wallet and hands her a card. Oscar is about to freak out, but then he remembers that Cam just tossed their parents credit cards in the lake. He tries to keep his expression under control, but a voice in his head is chanting, ‘Going to get caught, going to get caught…’

“The plane leaves at 6:20 AM, so you will have a wait if you chose to stay here.” The agent hands over the tickets. “Have a safe flight, gentlemen.”

Oscar wonders if he’s stepped into the Twilight Zone. He feels like he’s dreaming as he and Cam get through security with no trouble. Their bags are small enough that they don’t need to be checked, and nothing on the x-ray triggers questions (Oscar feels like they should be able to tell that they have thousands of dollars in cash between them, but he’s not about to bring it up) In what feels like the blink of an eye, he and Cam are in the waiting lounge.

Cam slouches down in a chair. “Huh,” he muses, “That was easy.”

“When did you get the card?” Oscar finally asks.

Cam just grins. “You owe me like, a thousand bucks for that ticket. I ought to make you cover mine, too, but I’ll let you slide.”

Oscar has no response. This is just too freaking weird. He plugs his iPod into a nearby socket and listens to his music without really hearing it. He’s in the airport, he’s waiting for the flight that will take him away from his parents for god knows how long. He honestly didn’t think he would make it this far.

The wait gets to him, though. Cam keeps hissing at him to calm down, he’s being way too obvious, but that only winds him up more.

“I wrote notes,” Oscar says suddenly.

“I hope you didn’t leave them in the hotel,” Cam says.

“No, I have them, it’s just…I was going to give them to you, to give Joss and Scout. Well, Sam I guess, because Scout can’t read yet.”

“I can still do that,” Cam says crossly. “I plan on going home eventually, you know.”

“Oh, right,” Oscar says, and the flash of embarrassment takes the edge off his nerves a bit.

“How long do you have, anyway?” Cam asks.

Oscar’s palms begin to sweat. “I’m not sure.”

“You’ll make it up the mountain, right?”

“I hope so.”

Cam eyes Oscar’s shaking hands. “Calm down, I just want to make sure I’m not going to have to drag your dead body back down. But you should tell me anyway, if you do bite it on the mountain, should I just bury you there or do you want to be sent home? You should actually tell me what you want done with your body after you die.”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Oscar says.

“Really? You’re dying and you don’t know what you want done with your body?”

“Do I get a choice?” Oscar asks. He hasn’t had a choice in anything else.

“I had a friend whose uncle wanted to be cremated and his ashes scattered in a national forest, so yeah I guess you get a choice.”

It triggers a morbid fascination for Oscar. “I don’t even know if you could bury me on the mountain, we’re going to be with a group, they’ll know I’m dead.”

“Yeah but if I can…”

Oscar bites his lip. “I don’t see why it matters, if I’m dead it’s not like I’ll care.”

Cam scoffs. “Fine, I’ll throw your corpse in the ocean and you can be shark bait.”

“No, dude!” Oscar cries.

“So it does matter,” Cam says.

“Man, fuck you,” Oscar grumbles.

“This is dying 101,” Cam says, “It’s in all the movies and books and shit, people start talking about how they want to be buried under a tree or what they want their headstone to be. Some lady in like, Key West or something was a hypochondriac and her headstone says ‘I told you I was sick.’”

Oscar actually laughs. “Mine can say ‘No one told me I was sick.’”

Cam actually turns his head at that. “Is that a joke, or are you serious?”

Oscar feels a flash of anger. “You know what? I’m serious.” His final ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this,’ and it’ll be engraved in stone. His mom and dad will see it every time they visit his grave. He even talked about this trip with his dad after he knew about the cancer, and he still said nothing. As far as Oscar is concerned, they can both suffer for making him think he had time.

“I’ll pass it along,” Cam says. “And if your parents refuse, I’ll crowdfund you a proper headstone with your last words.”

Oscar laughs at that. “You better, or I’ll haunt you.”

They fall silent after that, and finally it’s time to board. Their seats in business are pretty nice, with room to lay back and sleep.

“Dying kid gets the window,” Oscar says, shoving Cam aside and snagging the seat.

“Should have told her to seat us separately,” Cam grumbles.

“Good luck explaining that, since we’re such good buddies going off to Africa on a whim,” Oscar says, settling back in his seat. Nothing can go wrong now, right?

The other passengers board, and the rush of the last 24 hours hits Oscar like a sack of bricks. He closes his eyes, and next thing he knows he’s jolting awake to the roar of the engine.

“We landing?” He asks.

Cam has a white-knuckled grip on his armrest. “Nope, taking off,” he says.

Oscar groans and lays back down. He’s exhausted.

Oscar is sure that Amsterdam is a wonderful city, but he’s too tired to appreciate it. He and Cam stagger off the plane, clothes rumbled and bags under their eyes, looking like every other passenger stepping off the plane. They’re staring at a 10-hour wait.

“Wanna find a hotel?” Oscar asks.

Cam grunts. “Why bother? We’d have to come back in a few hours.”

So they join the rest of the passengers who have chosen to stay behind. They stake a claim on an outlet, rest their heads on their backpacks, prop their feet up on their expensive suitcases.

“Do we still look like rich kids just fucking around on a trip?” Oscar asks.

“No one cares in an airport,” Cam says.

“What time is it?”

“Fuck if I know, don’t you have eyes? Find a clock.”

“What time is it in Port Charles?”

Cam huffs. “Math, Noah, do it.”

Noah? Oh, right, his new name. “Like, 6 PM, right?”

“I guess,” Cam says.

They didn’t check in with their parents that morning, they must be panicking right about now. Maybe they’ve called the hotel and realized that the room is empty. Maybe they think that he and Cam just got lost and their phones died, that they’re going to come in the door any minute, apologizing profusely for losing touch.

“They know we’re gone by now,” Oscar says.

“Not getting cold feet, are we?” Cam asks, and his tone sets Oscar off.

“No,” he growls, barely managing to keep his voice down, “I’m not getting cold feet. I hope my mom is worried, I hope she’s terrified and imagining horrible things, because that’s what I did as soon as I heard the word ‘cancer’ and saw my mom and dad in a serious meeting in a hospital. Do you have any idea what it’s like to learn that someone has been keeping your actual death from you for two years? And she didn’t even do anything to try to help me. She said chemo wouldn’t do anything but she didn’t even let me try it. And I would have tried it, if I knew. God, I thought that was the first thing I was going to do, I was so worried about losing my hair. My fucking hair, can you believe how shallow that is? And then she tells me no, chemo isn’t an option, because it’s too late, I’m terminal. No wonder she never let me out of her sight, no wonder she was always so paranoid about everything going wrong. She wanted me to live a normal fucking life, she wasn’t going to tell me until after my birthday, and who knows what I would have been like by then? I sure wouldn’t be here, in this goddamn airport, with you of all people.”

It hits him right away, how terrible that last part was, and he quickly sits up. “Fuck, I didn’t mean that…”

But Cam doesn’t look offended. “Huh. You’re a vindictive little shit, aren’t you?” He laughs, “Christ, we have a lot in common.”

Oscar lays back down. “I don’t want to be vindictive,” he mutters.

“Why not? You’ve sure got a good reason to be.”

Oscar sighs. “I guess. But what about you? What makes you so vindictive and ready to run away from home?”

“Franco,” Cam hisses. “God, I don’t get what my mom sees in him. He’s a fucking killer. He manipulated dozens of people.”

“Didn’t he also have a brain tumor?” Oscar asks.

“So do you, apparently, and you don’t go around murdering people for funsies.”

“Point,” Oscar says. “But what about your mom? I mean, she’s probably worried.”

Cam is quiet for a minute. “She can go ahead and worry, she’s just as messed up as your mom is.”

That gets Oscar’s attention. “What? She kept something big from you, too?”

“Nah she just…” Cam huffs. “Not that it’s any of your business but as long as we’re sharing, you know me and my brothers all have different dads? And two of us, myself and Jake, we were conceived in affairs. My dad is dead, and I was adopted by Lucky Spencer. He was so great, he was the best man in the world, and my mom married him, but he went through a rough patch. And instead of being there for him, instead of trying to get him the help he needed, she went and slept with Jason, your uncle Jason, and boom, there’s Jake. Aiden is Lucky’s son, but guess what? Mom was having an affair with Nikolas Cassadine when she was pregnant with him, so everyone thought Aiden was Nikolas’ son. Oh, and Lucky and Nikolas are brothers, so yeah, my mom slept with both of them. She’s had so many goddamn boyfriends and engagements and marriages over the years, and she fucks things up with all of them. Not that I remember her being married to Ric, you probably don’t even know who he is, she was married to him when she slept with my dad. She’s also been with A.J—he’s dead now too, he was also your uncle—and then there was her relationship with Drew, when she thought he was Jason—oh yeah she knew that he was Jason, or being passed off as Jason, and kept it from him, so she knows something about keeping life changing secrets.”

Cam pushes himself up on his elbows and looks down at Cam. “And speaking of life-changing secrets, my dad was a criminal. Yup, Zander Smith was a drug dealer, kidnapper, vandal, and so on. He got shot by the police and died. Pretty sure if my mom was to pick the father of her firstborn and actually like, stop to think about it, she wouldn’t have picked him. I can’t even ask her about him, because then it’ll be like, ‘Oh why do you want to know about the fuckup who got killed by the cops?’ Like she’s totally afraid that every time I screw up I’m on my way to becoming just like him. If she had been in her right mind that night and not screwed him, or remembered a condom like a normal person going for a hookup, I definitely wouldn’t be here right now.”

Oscar has no idea what to say to all that. “Okay…wow.”

“Yeah,” Cam says, flopping back down. “Wow.”

Even though they just had the most intense conversation ever, they managed to do it all without shouting. No one has glanced at them, the airport and the passengers continue on with their lives, staring at their phones or chewing their over-priced food and staring at nothing.

“How’d you know all that stuff about your mom?” Oscar finally asks. “Like, I don’t even want to think about my mom dating at all.”

“Well I didn’t actively trace my mom’s sex life,” Cam says, and he finally sounds a bit embarrassed, “It’s just like…you hear things. Adults think kids don’t have ears, and they just say shit. Plus the whole thing between my mom, Nikolas and Lucky was pretty much the talk of the town when it happened. Lulu went off on her in the hospital.”

Oscar’s head is spinning. Cam has just dropped so many names and so much gossip in his lap. He wants to be sympathetic, but he’s kind of just lost. “Port Charles is kind of a fucked up place, isn’t it? It seems like everybody’s having affairs or getting remarried or having three kids with three different people.” Josslyn didn’t have any full-siblings either, though they didn’t seem to treat each other like anything less because of it.

“Something in the water, I guess,” Cam says. After a moment of silence, he continues. “I just don’t get it. I do love my mom, I always will, but I hate her at the same time. I wish Lucky could have been my real dad. He wasn’t perfect but he tried. He had issues, but he got over them. I can’t understand why…why my mom had to go and cheat on him. What about him wasn’t enough? When I get married I want it to be to someone who I love completely and totally, I don’t ever want to even think about betraying them like that. I mean I get that it doesn’t always work out but I would never be a cheater.”

“Me either,” Oscar blurts, before realizing what he’s just said. “I mean…sorry.”

“Yeah I’ll give you that,” Cam says, “You didn’t actually cheat on Joss.”

Oscar bites the inside of his cheek, hard, at the venom in Cam’s voice. “If I had known I was sick…I don’t know if I would have even spoken to her. I really don’t want her to watch me die.”

Cam sighs. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I know that. You are a good guy and I know you were trying to do what you thought was best. I mean, you could have used the cancer to guilt Joss into so many things, but that’s just not who you are. It’s kind of gross, actually. You’ve got no business being that noble, you know.”

“What’s noble about being a decent human being?”

“Hey, I just told you all about my mom’s salacious life. Decency is a foreign concept in Port Charles.” Cam sits up and straighten his clothes. “I’m going to go stick my head under a faucet and get some coffee and food. You want anything?”

“A cheeseburger would be nice. Everything but pickles on it.”

“You got it, dude.”

Huh. If Oscar didn’t know any better he would think that he and Cam just had some kind of friendly moment. But no, that couldn’t be, there had been too much anger and sarcasm in that conversation.

When it’s time to get back on the plane, Oscar remembers the white-knuckled grip Cam had on the armrest during takeoff from Newark. “Hey, are you like…okay with flying?” He asks.

“Hell of a time to ask, but yeah, I’m fine.”

“You seemed kind of freaked out when we left.”

Cam glances around and leans in. “Well I was kind of convinced the plane was going to turn around and we’d be arrested.”

Oscar is shocked. “What?! But you seemed so…so cool about it all!”

“That’s called acting. Not surprised it fooled you, but I’m amazed it fooled everyone else. I may have found my calling.”

* * *

Oscar is pretty sure he’s dreaming. There’s no way he’s actually in Tanzania, at a hotel, watching Cam laugh with their guide as they talk about Marvel films. There’s no way he’s about to join a middle-aged couple and three collegiate girls on a week-long hike up Mount Kilimanjaro. There’s no way he’s been away from home for four days, and the FBI still hasn’t found him and dragged him home.

“Noah,” Cam calls, and Oscar jumps.

“Huh?”

“Who was the best Spider Man?”

“Andrew Garfield,” Oscar says, “Better than Tobey and more American than Tom.”

Their guide, Paul, shakes his head. “No one can be better than Tobey Maguire, he is a legend!”

“Watch the remakes my man,” Cam says, “You will see!”

But the time for movie discussions is over, the car is here to take them to the starting point, where they’ll meet up with the rest of their team. The tour group is small, but it takes dozens of local guides to get tourists up the mountain. There will be porters and medics, all of whom have done this dozens of times before and are there to get them all up and down Mount Kilimanjaro safely.

“Don’t be afraid,” Paul says to the group at large. “We’re going to take this slow and steady. It’s important to be mindful of yourself and your friends, and to admit when you’re having a hard time. But this isn’t just about hardships. You’re about to experience unparalleled beauty and majesty. All who climb this mountain say that it is the hardest thing they have ever done, but they’re happy they did it, because it’s an experience they’ll never forget.”

Oscar’s heart hammers in his chest.

“Any distance you go is a feat to be proud of,” Paul continues, “But if you cannot go on, don’t push yourself. There is no shame in knowing your limits, and every part of our trip will be beautiful.”

Cam looks nervous for the first time. “Has anyone died doing this?”

“Of course,” Paul says, unflinchingly. “But people die driving cars and riding rollercoasters, too. You have to acknowledge the risks, but that shouldn’t stop you from trying.”

Oscar smiles. He really likes Paul, the guy knows how to drop the truth.

At the base of the mountain, Oscar looks up at the peak. He’s got his camera, and he takes several shots of the mountain top.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Cam says suspiciously.

“No,” Oscar agrees, “But that’s how it tricks you. You think you can do it easily, but the truth is the altitude murders you.”

“This is what you wanted to do before you died,” Cam whispers, shaking his head.

And the first day is brutal. They take frequent brakes, and the view is spectacular, but Oscar’s head starts hurting just a few hours in. The middle-aged couple admit to having stomach pain, the girls also have headaches, and Cam resolutely keeps his jaw shut even though he gets paler and paler, and finally when they stop at the end of the day, he staggers to the side of the trail and pukes.

“No problem,” Paul says as Cam staggers back, handing him some water. “By tomorrow morning, you’ll all feel much better, and then we will start all over again!”

They all get oxygen treatments and have their blood pressure taken, and they all help in preparing dinner and setting up their tents. The temperature drops rapidly, sending them scrambling for their jackets and hats.

“It’s greener than I expected,” Cam says to Oscar. “Stupid, but I always pictured it being like a desert.”

“Not stupid,” Oscar says, “I thought that too before I looked it up.”

Once the sun is gone, the stars come out, and even from the lower part of the mountain, they’re beautiful. The whole group, even Cam, stands in the trail looking up at the sky.

“Do you ever get used to it?” One of the girls asks the guides.

They all shake their heads.

The second day of hiking is just as brutal. They take it slow, but around midday Oscar starts to have trouble putting his feet in front of each other, as he feels like the ground is further away than it actually is. For a while the trekking poles help, but eventually his foot does miss the ground, and he stumbles.

Oscar must black out, because next thing he knows he’s got an oxygen mask over his face and Cam is hovering at his side. “You awake?”

Oscar nods. Paul kneels in front of him. “We’re going to rest for a while, just breathe deeply and slowly.”

Oscar nods, feeling heat creep up his neck. “Sorry.”

Paul grins. “No, it’s okay. It happens, we’re prepared for it.”

“But say something if you’re not feeling well,” Cam snaps.

“You’re one to talk,” Oscar says with a grin. “How long were you trying not to puke yesterday?”

Cam rolls his eyes. “He’s being sassy, he’s fine.”

During the break, the group goes around saying things about themselves. Since Oscar is supposed to be breathing, Cam talks for him, and it’s a good thing too since he’s better at lying than Oscar is.

The middle aged couple are Patrick ‘Call me Pat’ and Mary, they’ve been training for this for three years. Pat had a motorcycle accident five years ago and realized that he wanted to climb a mountain before he died, and he and Mary want to try Everest next. Mary just retired from teaching after 20 years, Pat is her second husband.

“And my last,” she says, smiling at Pat like he’s the love of her life.

The three girls are Sarah, Farrah, and Tara. They met in high school and call themselves the Ara-squad. They’re going into their second year of grad school, but they took a break between semesters to do this. Sarah is studying biology, Farrah is studying ecology, and Tara is studying geology. They all plan to write papers using their experiences on the hike.

“We finished undergrad this summer,” Cam says when it’s his turn, “Took a gap year to try and…figure stuff out, you know? Neither of us is sure what we want to do. This climb was Noah’s idea, it’s always been a dream of his and I just kinda…went with it. I’m still confused as to why I’m here, but I’m glad I am.”

“Good for you,” Pat says. “It’s nice to see young people taking the time to see the world.”

“You sure started big,” Farrah says, nodding at Oscar.

He’s finally been allowed to take the mask off, and he says, “Well go big or go home as they say.”

When Oscar feels better, they continue the hike. He and Cam are at the back, and Oscar asks, “You actually glad to be here?”

Cam nods. “It’s kicking my ass, but it’s pretty awesome. I’m going to have quite the story to tell my kids someday.”

And really, Oscar thinks that’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? That’s why he’s so angry at his mom for keeping the tumor from him, so he could have an ordinary life—the last thing he wanted was to be ordinary. Sure that’s what he was, but he always thought he’d be extraordinary some day and have awesome stories to tell his friends, his wife, and his kids. Even if he couldn’t live to see some of those dreams, it didn’t mean he didn’t want the experience.

That night, Oscar has a hard time leaving the view of the stars and going into the tent. When he finally does go in the tent he’s sure Cam is asleep, but Cam sits up when Oscar zips the door shut.

“Finally, get the fuck in here I’m freezing.”

Oscar laughs. “We’re in different sleeping bags, it’s not like we’re sharing body heat.”

“No but now two people are breathing in here and that counts for something,” Cam says.

Oscar lays down and asks, “So like, what’s your ultimate bucket list, since this wasn’t it? Like if someone told you that you had a few months left, what would you do?”

Cam answers automatically, “Go somewhere warm and tropical, stay in a beautiful hotel, spend my days eating and drinking on the beach or by a pool and spend my nights clubbing. I’d have the best party-vacation in history and go out feeling like I had fun.”

“Huh,” Oscar says. That sounds nice, actually. “Should we do that when we’re done here?”

“If we do, I’m picking the place,” Cam mumbles around a yawn. “You picked Hell Mountain, I officially don’t trust your choices.”

The days don’t get any easier, but nobody passes out—Oscar seems to have given everyone a lesson on telling Paul when they need a break. The temperature continues to fall, the top always gets closer but remains just out of reach, and the night sky is always breathtaking.

By the end of the fifth day, the top of the mountain is so close that Oscar feels like they could reach it in an hour, but it’s not going to be that easy—it’s still so high up, after all.

“I’m very proud of all of you,” Paul says over dinner, “You certainly have grit, but you listen to us when we tell you to take a break. It’s quite refreshing.”

“Does that mean you’ll guide us again should we come back?” Mary asks.

“Any time, I would,” Paul says. “And I really feel like we will make it to the top tomorrow.”

The group lets out a cheer.

“So that means you have to rest well tonight,” Paul warns.

Easier said than done, now that they have the end of the trip hanging over their heads. In the notebook with his letters to Scout and Joss, Oscar tries to describe how he’s feeling, knowing that he’s so close to the end of the trip. Truthfully, the idea of summiting Kilimanjaro was something he saw as a far-off dream, even though he asked his dad if they could it together next year. Having it right in front of him…it makes him wonder what he’s supposed to do next. What he has _time_ to do next.

He barely pays attention when Cam comes into the tent, but after a while he hears the scratching of pen on paper that’s not his own, and he looks over his shoulder.

“What’re you writing?” Oscar asks.

“Same thing as you, I imagine,” Cam says. “Never thought I’d keep a travel journal but damn, there’s somethings I just…wanna remember.”

“Same,” Oscar says. Then, “Hey, can I ask you something kind of…personal?”

“You can but I’m not sure I’ll answer,” Cam says.

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Okay. What are some things you wish you could ask your dad, either one, but haven’t been able to for one reason or another?”

Cam snorts, “Well I can’t think of anything right now, because you asked.”

Oscar looks down at his notebook. “I kinda want to leave this for Scout, give her something to have of me forever, but I don’t just want it to be a letter and a travel journal. I want to tell her about myself, things she might be curious about someday. It’s not like I have an older brother to base my questions and answers on so…”

“Start mundane,” Cam says. “Favorite color?”

“Brown,” Oscar answers.

Cam looks up. “Dude. Of all the colors…”

“Hey, brown is a perfectly nice color, and it’s vastly underrated.”

“It’s boring.”

“Tree bark is brown,” Oscar says, “Dirt, deer, certain birds—”

“Muddy lakes and sewer water,” Cam interrupts.

“Point being, plenty of nature is brown,” Oscar continues, “Every other color in nature gets called beautiful, but brown gets overlooked even though it’s literally all around us.”

“Well don’t just write brown as your favorite color,” Cam says, “Make it poetic, say chestnut or something.”

“What does chestnut even look like?”

“Fuck if I know, do I look like an interior designer?”

So Oscar flips to the back of the notebook and writes _‘About your big brother. Favorite color, chestnut brown.’_

“What else?”

“Favorite movie, favorite book…yearbook questions, dude.”

Oscar writes those answers down, but he quickly loses steam. “Gimme something else.”

Cam sighs. “Oh my god…favorite candy?”

Eventually they both climb into their sleeping bags, but Oscar keeps writing, and after a while Cam starts offering more questions without needing to be prompted.

“Worst grade on a test.”

“I don’t remember…40%?”

“Yikes. Thing you’d definitely splurge on?”

“A trip to Kilimanjaro.”

“Material thing, like the most ridiculous thing ever.”

“Well what’s your answer?”

“The single most expensive pair of shoes in the world.”

“What are they?”

“I don’t know, it’s always changing, and it would literally just be to shut Damien up for once in his life.”

“That’s so petty.”

“Hey, never said I wasn’t a petty person.”

“I’ll skip that question for now.”

Cam yawns. “Favorite flavor of pie?”

“Raspberry.”

Cam shoots up and looks askance at Oscar. “Seriously?! Are you even American? How could you not say apple!”

“Apple is just fine, but if I had to pick…”

“Oh my god,” Cam says, “This is an affront to apples everywhere. Don’t write that.”

“Too late.”

Cam flops back down. “Scout, you have been let down.”

“Well I guess I know your answer, then.”

“Nah dude, mine’s blueberry.”

Oscar sputters. “Are you for real?”

“What can I say? I enjoy giving you shit for your choices. Now shut up, I’m officially ready for bed.”

* * *

They reach the top of Kilimanjaro as the moon is rising. The Ara-Squad run ahead of everyone and burst into shouts of glee as they cling to the sign designating the highest point of elevation.

“We did it!” They yell as they cry all over each other.

Pat and Mary hug each other tightly and kiss. Paul and the rest of the guides burst into applause.

Cam drops his backpack and tips his head up to look at the sky. It’s freezing, his body aches like a truck hit him, and he would give up his left arm and leg for a shower and a proper bed…and he never wants this moment to end.

He would never say this out loud, but he knows why Oscar picked this as his ultimate bucket list item, now. Yeah, a warm place with a great beach is nice, but this was an actual challenge, a grueling impossibility. When people talk about Oscar they will feel sorry for him, but they will also admire him for having the guts to beat this mountain.

Speaking of Oscar, he’s gone a short distance from the group and is on his knees, staring out at the world below. Cam heads over and stands behind Oscar, taking in the view. The world below is pretty much a sea of clouds, featuring more peaks in the distance that are capped with snow. When he was a kid, he pictured heaven like this—he thought angels rode on clouds and for them the only skyscrapers were the tip-tops of mountains. He wonders if Oscar is thinking that same thing.

“We actually made it,” Cam says.

“You should definitely come back here with Joss,” Oscar says, his voice breaking. “And…yeah, I changed my mind, I want to be cremated. When you two come, bring my ashes and leave them here. Don’t scatter them, just dig a hole and bury them. Give me a good view.”

Cam sits down next to him. “I can do that,” he says. He puts a hand on Oscar’s back. “Is it everything you wanted?”

Oscar nods.

For a while they sit in silence, but the group calls them back for a picture. Pat sets up his camera on a stand, and they all pose by the sign, the moon and the hazy purple sky behind them. Cam’s got to get his hands on that picture, when Oscar does die he’s going to spread it all over Port Charles, so everyone will know why they ran away.

* * *

They have to go down the mountain a ways to make camp, but the view of the stars is no less amazing than it has been through the whole hike. Paul said it was miraculous that they didn’t get more rain at night, and Oscar wonders if it’s the universe trying to make up for giving him incurable cancer. He sits in the trail, head back and staring at the sky.

“You know I stand by this being the last thing on my bucket list, but I see why you wanted it so bad,” Cam says.

Oscar doesn’t look away from the stars. “One of the most impossible things in the world, and I did it with brain cancer.”

“Yeah, but even without cancer it’s still a badass thing to do,” Cam says. “Don’t you think I’m badass for going along with it?”

Oscar ignores the question. “That’s just it, before I found out about the tumor…I mean I brought up the trip to my dad but I don’t know if it ever would have happened. I could have died never knowing what this place was like.”

Cam hands Oscar an energy bar. “Eat, and explain this to me—are you saying you’re glad you found out about the cancer or you would trade this for a full life of no adventure?”

That makes Oscar pause. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Shocking,” Cam says.

Oscar throws his arm back and hits Cam in the shin—not too hard, though.

Cam steps back. “Pat’s gonna email me the pictures. Well, not me, but a friend of mine. He’ll keep them safe until I can get my hands on them. And he won’t say anything.”

“How do you know?”

Cam looks around. “Cause he’s passport dude.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. Then, “You’re pretty confident about him.”

“Yeah, his little brother is a friend of mine,” Cam says. “A friend I look out for, so he feels like he owes me or something.”

Oscar tears his eyes off the sky and looks at Cam. “He owes you secrecy from the FBI for looking out for his brother? What’d you do, save the kid’s life?”

Cam hesitates. “I mean…well I might as well tell you. The friend I look out for is Jordan.”

Oh, Oscar knows Jordan, he came to the alternative dance that he and Joss had—he’s trans, came out as male-identifying a year ago, as Oscar understands.

Cam continues, “His brother supports him, but doesn’t live with the family, and as I’m sure you know the family isn’t super supportive. So I do what I can, try to keep the bullies sort of at bay and all that. I also gave him a bunch of my clothes, he’s kinda short so I gave him the stuff that doesn’t fit me. I didn’t think it was a big deal but when you’re rummaging the racks at thrift stores, apparently it is.”

“Wow,” Oscar says, “That’s…really cool of you.”

“I like to think I’m not that much of a jerk.”

“Aiden—” Oscar starts, because Joss told him, but Cam interrupts.

“Is eight, and I don’t go to school with him,” Cam says. “And yeah, he can like what he likes, but he doesn’t know how to stand up for himself when people are mean to him, and kids can be really good, but they can also be really, really cruel. I’ve seen it, it’s happened to me and people I know.”

“I know,” Oscar says quietly.

“And his school’s anti-bullying policy sucks,” Cam continues, “I looked it up, they don’t do suspension or anything because it’s an elementary school.”

“I wasn’t trying to say you’re a bad brother,” Oscar says. “Sorry.”

“No I get it,” Cam says with a sigh. “Franco gave me so much shit for it though, like he didn’t know exactly what Aiden would be facing.”

Oscar looks back up at the sky. He wonders who Scout will turn to if she gets bullied. She’ll have Danny, and Drew will certainly teach her to throw a punch…won’t he?

“If Scout gets bullied, tell my dad to teach her how to punch,” Oscar says.

“Write it in the notebook,” Cam says.

Oscar looks back again—Cam is staring at the sky.

“This is amazing,” Cam says. “You never see the Milky Way like this in Port Charles. I wish I had my telescope.”

It takes a moment for Oscar to actually hear that. “Wait, you have a telescope?”

“Yeah, I love the stars,” Cam says.

“You only tell me this now?” Oscar asks.

“Eh, you didn’t ask,” Cam says. “But like, who doesn’t love looking at stars, honestly?”

A few minutes later they head to the tent, and Oscar finally answers the earlier question. “Yes, you are badass for going along with this.”

Cam groans, “Aw goddamnit, if I had known you were gonna say that I would have recorded it!”

* * *

Reaching the bottom of the mountain takes a lot less time than reaching the top did—after all, descent means they start to feel better. Two days is all it takes for the group to reach civilization, and Oscar didn’t think that saying goodbye would be so hard. Everyone hugs each other a dozen times, they take pictures with all the porters and thank them for everything (and tip them generously), they exchange contact information (or Cam gives them his friends’ email). Maybe it hits Oscar so hard because he knows that, barring a miracle, he’s never going to see these people again, and doing something like summit Kilimanjaro together really creates a bond that you don’t want to let go of.

Cam and Oscar collect their things from the tour group’s headquarters, and then they kind of…stop and stare at each other.

“So what now?” Cam finally asks.

“If you want to go home…” Oscar begins, but Cam cuts him off.

“Not without you.”

So Oscar thinks about his sore body and how nice it would be to just relax for a while. “Well, you know how you said you’d go someplace warm and exotic and just kind of party for your last days?”

Cam nods, his face lighting up. “Yeah, why?”

“You still want to do that?”

“Dude, fuck yeah!” Cam shouts, “And I know exactly where we should go! To the airport!”

Upon arrival, Cam practically races to the ticket counter. “Two one ways for Saipan,” he says, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

They have no trouble booking the flight and paying with American money, which Oscar feels like should be kind of…not allowed, but he’s not asking questions. Not to the employees, anyway.

“Where’s Saipan?” He asks Cam.

“Below Japan and above Australia,” Cam answers, “Jordan goes on and on about the place, that boy group he always talks about went there and it’s his dream to go, too. He showed me pictures and I have to say, I’d never heard of it before but it looks beautiful.”

In the waiting area, Cam looks around and whispers to Oscar, “We should send Joss a letter. Just to let her know we’re okay.”

And honestly, Oscar’s been thinking about that, too. “But if we send it from here, they’ll know we were here and look for us.”

“We wouldn’t send it to her directly,” Cam says, “I’ll send it to my friend and ask him to pass it along.”

Oscar agrees. Cam writes the letter, keeping it short. He apologizes for taking off and not saying anything, but promises that he and Oscar are doing well.

“She probably knows about your cancer by now,” Cam says.

Oscar has to agree. “Yeah. Tell her that it was all my idea, and you came along to make sure I would be okay.”

“Well I’m not going to phrase it like that,” Cam scoffs.

Oscar rolls his eyes and stops reading over Cam’s shoulder. Cam finishes the letter, folds it up and writes ‘FOR JOSSLYN’ on the side facing out, and places it in an envelope addressed to his friend. Oscar stays with the bags while Cam takes the letter to the post.

He’s stopped feeling like he’s being stabbed in the chest every time he thinks about Josslyn. Is it because he’s coming to terms with probably never seeing her again? Is it because he’s too tired to exert that kind of emotion? He does have to wonder, though, if she’ll ever forgive him for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Am I making this too unrealistic?  
Also me: IT'S A GODDAMN SOAP OPERA IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE REALISTIC


	2. Not a Second to Waste

A 20-hour flight with a layover finds Oscar and Cam checking into a beautiful hotel in a city that Oscar had never heard of prior to yesterday. He wishes they had spent a night in Tanzania before they went gallivanting off on yet another flight around the world, it’s really not comfortable to be sleeping on an airplane.

Cam books a room while Oscar stares out the lobby’s windows to the ocean. It looks absolutely beautiful, and he wishes he could be more excited for it, but right now he just wants a bed and a shower.

“Come on,” Cam says tapping Oscar’s shoulder, “Let’s go get some shut eye.”

They set off from the lobby, and Cam continues, “There’s only one bed, and I’m not sharing with you unless you shower, so you can have that first since you look like you’re a zombie.”

Oscar nods. Yes, whatever Cam just said sounds wonderful.

Walking into the room wakes him up quite a bit. “Holy shit,” he gasps, dropping his bags in the doorway. The windows are open, curtains billowing in the breeze off the ocean, which is mere yards from their room. There’s a door directly across from the one they just walked through, and it leads right on to the sand.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Cam says appreciatively, “That’s why I went with the ocean view. Now get in the shower.”

“I have like, no clean clothes to change into,” Oscar says.

Cam sighs. “Right…okay I’ll go back to the lobby and see what I can do. There’s a bathrobe, just put it on if I’m not back before you get out.”

Of course the moment Oscar steps in the shower, he never wants to leave. It’s amazing to have warm, running water and soap. God, he never thought he would be so happy to see shampoo bottles. He’s not even sure how long he’s in the shower before the bathroom door opens and Cam yells, “Found pajamas!” He closes the door again before Oscar can yell at him to get the fuck out, but it does remind him that there’s a bed out there, and it’s calling his name.

Cam is sitting in an armchair when Oscar gets out of the bathroom, and Cam points to a water bottle and orders Oscar to drink it before heading for the shower himself. Oscar manages to get half of it down before he falls into the bed. He thinks it must not take even ten seconds for him to fall asleep.

Oscar wakes up with Cam chanting, “Oh my god wake up, oh my god, oh my god please wake up.”

“I’m up,” Oscar tries to say, but all he does is moan.

“You’re alive! Oh thank you sweet Jesus!”

Oscar’s head feels like it’s going to split open, he can’t remember where he is, and he tastes blood in his mouth.

“Wha’ppened?” Oscar manages to ask.

“I…you had a seizure,” Cam says. “And your nose is bleeding. I’m gonna get you a towel.”

Oscar tries to touch his face, but all he does is throw his arm back and smack his hand against the wall. It was like this the last time he passed out, too—it took a few minutes for him to remember how to function.

Oscar feels a damp towel pressed to his face. “You didn’t bleed on the pillow, at least,” Cam says, laughing nervously.

That is good news, it means the nosebleed isn’t so bad.

“Oscar?!”

“’M here,” Oscar says.

“Well…can you open your eyes? Or sit up? Or something?!”

“Few minutes,” Oscar says, managing to sound pissed off.

Cam falls silent. Oscar focuses on moving his fingers, then bending his elbows, and then he holds the towel against his nose on his own. He opens his eyes, and closes them again.

“Lights, turn off,” he mumbles.

He hears the click of the lamp, and he sits up. His headache has lessened, but he’s achy all over. He squints at the digital clock across the room, it’s just after 1 AM. A bit of moonlight illuminates the room, enough that he can see how panicked Cam looks.

“You okay?” Cam asks. He might be on the verge of tears.

Oscar nods. “Yeah, this happened before, when I fainted. My mom didn’t tell me it was a seizure until later.” He’s able to enunciate now, and form complete sentences, but he speaks more slowly than he normally does.

“When you forgot to eat?” Cam clarifies.

“Yeah…I guess I’m dehydrated or something.” 24 hours in transit _would_ do that to a person, he was probably better fed and hydrated on that mountain than he has been in the past month, even if it was mostly army meals.

“Christ, you scared me,” Cam says, and he sounds it.

“Sorry,” Oscar says. “Really, I mean it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Cam says. “You…think it’ll happen again?”

“I hope not,” Oscar says.

“Do you think we should go to a hospital?”

“No way,” Oscar says firmly. “I am fine, aside from dying. But this is a fluke, I’ll be okay.”

Cam gets him another bottle of water and Oscar drinks it all, then tosses the towel in the garbage can.

“You sure…?” Cam starts.

“I’m sure,” Oscar says. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

He and Cam lay down, facing away from each other, and Oscar watches the minutes on the clock change until exhaustion finally claims him once more.

When Oscar does open his eyes again the clock says 9:28, and Cam is sitting up against the headboard, staring at his phone.

“What day is it?” Oscar asks. Strange question perhaps, after having a seizure, but he has a feeling that he already knows the answer.

“Here, or in Port Charles?” Cam asks. “Because here, it’s October 17.”

Oscar’s stomach jolts. He knew it, it’s his birthday.

“Yeah, happy birthday, dude,” Cam says, smiling slightly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Um…fine?” Oscar says. “A bit sore but…fine.”

“Cool. I know yesterday you said you had no clean clothes, but I did actually buy us both bathing suits before we left, so we should totally spend today at the pool or on the beach. I called the front desk, breakfast is on the way, and they’ll collect our laundry and do it for us.”

Oscar sits up and stretches. Cam is babbling, and he sounds nervous. “What’re you reading?” he asks. Cam hasn’t looked away from his phone, and if he starts talking about seizures, hospitals, or brain tumors, Oscar _is_ going to deck him.

“Passport dude emailed me. It’s a new email address, one I set up on his computer.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. He was not expecting that.

“Yeah,” Cam says. “So, you want to hear the news?”

“News?”

“About us,” Cam says.

For the second time, Oscar feels a jolt in his stomach.

“Don’t panic, he says no one knows where we are, and I’m not telling him.”

Oscar relaxes a bit. “So, what’s the news?”

Cam lowers his phone. “The FBI got involved on Wednesday after we went missing. Both our parents have gone on TV to ask if anyone has seen us, please come forward. The investigators know we bought bus tickets to LA, so they’re focusing their search on the west coast and airports there.”

Oscar sighs in relief—Pat and Mary lived in Oklahoma, the Ara-squad in England, there’s no way they’ve heard about the investigation. Probably.

“They also are questioning if we ever left New York,” Cam adds quietly. “There’s speculation we were mugged and killed, kidnapped, trafficked, something like that.”

Oscar is very glad they sent that letter to Josslyn.

“Oh, and your mom said on TV that you have terminal cancer and is asking hospitals to be on the lookout for you,” Cam adds.

So Joss definitely knows, now. He wonders if she’s mad at him for keeping it a secret. Most likely, she is.

There’s a knock at the door. “Room service!”

Cam answers the door, and he comes back with a tray of food and a laundry bag. “We can load the bag up and leave it in the hall, they’ll take care of it,” he says.

Oscar feels like he shouldn’t be hungry, but there’s pancakes, waffles, fresh fruit, and juice on the tray. He and Cam devour the food—their first fresh meal in, god, how long has it been? Airport food doesn’t count, it’s been over a week. Probably closer to two weeks.

When they clear the tray of food they put it and the laundry-stuffed bags out in the hall and Cam tosses a pair of swim trunks and some sunscreen in Oscar’s direction. “Alright, enough of the pity party, it’s time to hit the beach.”

Well if there’s one thing Oscar’s become good at, it’s shoving his thoughts aside and living in the moment. He and Cam change and head out.

They actually end up starting at the pool, because it’s right there and it’s so beautiful that they simply can’t ignore it. They end up going between the pool and the hot tub for a few hours, and then they order lunch from the pool-side café and bar.

“Any drinks?” The server asks. “We have several specials.”

She’s pointing to the alcoholic beverages. Oscar glances at Cam, who grins. “Oh, surprise us,” he says easily.

“Dude,” Oscar hisses as she walks away.

“Hey, our IDs say 21,” Cam says with a shrug.

Oscar is embarrassed to admit he didn’t know that. “How? How can we pass for that?”

“It’s the hair,” Cam says. “Highlights will do that. Plus we both look like we just hiked hell mountain, which adds years.” He kicks Oscar’s leg under the table. “Chill out, it’s your birthday. Which reminds me…”

He dashes off before Oscar can ask what he’s on about, and doesn’t return until their food and drinks are served.

“Eat before you drink,” Cam warns as he flops in his chair and sets his notebook next to his plate. “Okay, it’s time to make you an actual bucket list. We can put Kilimanjaro and tropical beach paradise on and checked off. What else?”

Oscar is too busy eating to actually think. “Not get deported?” He offers quietly, the first thing to pop in his head.

“No imagination,” Cam sighs. “I have to do everything myself. Okay first—find a night club, and party. Second, get super drunk, experience first hangover.”

“Why would I want that experience?” Oscar asks.

“Because hangovers are part of life,” Cam says. “You just gotta have one. What else? Parasailing, snorkeling, skydiving…”

“No skydiving!” Oscar yelps.

“Get a tattoo…” Cam continues.

“Whose bucket list is this, mine or yours?!”

“Hey, you don’t have to do what’s on the list, this is all generic stuff until you actually think of something.”

Oscar balls up a napkin and throws it at Cam’s head. “Well keep it to yourself, will you? You’re giving me anxiety with all your risky nonsense.”

“Not touching that one, but I want you to know I could.” He looks Oscar over critically. “Lose your virginity?”

Oscar chokes on his own saliva and immediately feels his face burn. “What?!”

“Well, I’ll put that on the list.”

Oscar can’t tell if he wants to run into the ocean and drown or leap over the table and strangle Cam. Instead, he downs half of his drink.

They finish lunch and spend the rest of the day at the beach. The water is warm and beautiful, there are sailboats out and about, and everyone on the beach is smiling and relaxed. The hotel has lounge chairs and umbrellas for their guests, and Cam and Oscar kind of do their own thing as far as going in and out of the ocean. Oscar takes a walk down the shore and collects some shells and stones that have been smoothed down by the water and sand. As the sun dips down he’s about to head back, but then he sees a sign that piques his interest and gives him an idea. He goes back to the hotel and drops his shells off in the room, then goes to the front desk.

“How can I help you?” Asks the guy behind the counter.

Oscar smiles. “What are some recommended activities for tourists?”

Several brochures later, Oscar heads back out to Cam. “Dude, check out all this stuff we can do!” He calls. “We can swim with stingrays and sharks! And there’s this thing called a Jetovator, we gotta do it all!”

Cam looks up from his notebook. “Oh good, I was getting bored. Wait…did you say sharks?!”

* * *

The next few days end up being packed. The hotel helps them book all their activities, and Oscar wasn’t kidding, he wants to do it all. The jetovator is the first thing they do, and it turns out to be a lot harder than it looks, but once Oscar gets the hang of it he has a blast (pun absolutely intended, he’ll later write in his notebook). As a kid he dreamed about flying with a jetpack, and this was pretty close to his imagination. Cam takes videos of him, and when it’s Cam’s turn to give the jetovator a try, Oscar captures it as well. He imagines that Cam’s shouts can be heard all the way to the hotel, and while they sure sound happy, he still gives Cam shit for sounding terrified.

“I was not half as bad as you were,” Cam insists.

“We’ll see who has the last laugh when it comes to the sharks, I guess,” Oscar says, watching as Cam’s face gets a little paler.

“They so don’t have a shark,” he says.

“Sting rays are technically sharks.”

“Oh, whatever nerd, they don’t have teeth! A real shark is just—no way!”

So they go and swim with the stingrays, learn how to hold them, are allowed to feed them, even encouraged to kiss them. Sure enough there is also a nurse shark hanging out in a large pen, and they are offered a free drink at a nearby club if they get in the water with her. Oscar jumps at the chance, and while he is nervous, he mostly does it because of how utterly horrified Cam is at the mere suggestion.

“You’re out of your mind!” Cam shouts as Oscar floats on his back in the pen. The shark isn’t even interested in him, she’s a good twenty feet away.

“Who is surprised, though?” Oscar asks.

He gets his coupon for a free drink. Cam refuses to even dip a toe in the same water as the shark.

“Wuss,” Oscar teases under his breath.

“Says he who balked at a drink that barely contained any alcohol.”

“Hmm, alcohol versus shark…I think I win.”

Cam rolls his eyes but doesn’t offer a rebuttal.

They go on two snorkeling trips, one in a grotto and one just off the hotel’s beach. The water is bluer than the sky, the salt burns Oscar’s face but there’s no sign of plastic, empty beer cans, or any other gross things that he would have found in Port Charles’ harbor. They also ride ATVs through the forest, up to a cliff overlooking the ocean. The forest is green and smells fresh, the view is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Okay, second most beautiful after the stars at the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

One day, Oscar drags Cam out of bed before the sun rises for a deep-sea fishing trip. Cam complains right up until they’re on the water watching the sunrise, at which point he grudgingly admits that okay, it is a beautiful sight. He still falls asleep while Oscar actually fishes.

“Fishing is boring anyway,” he says as he drops a hat over his eyes and quickly dozes off.

But the last time Oscar went fishing, it was in a pond that had nothing but minnows in it. For him, this is another opportunity he just wants to grab on to because it’s right in front of him. And he does catch a fish, a huge one that he wrestles with for nearly an hour. Cam wakes up in time to see Oscar haul it into the boat. The fish is edible, but this is a catch and release trip. So Oscar poses for one picture with the fish, and then the guides takeover to allow the fish to recover before sending it off.

“Waste of time,” Cam says.

Oscar disagrees. Certainly, his muscles disagree—he got quite a workout fighting that fish.

When they get back on land, it’s after noon and they go for a slow, relaxed lunch before heading back to the hotel.

Cam wastes no time applying some lotion to his nose (which is looking a little burned) and grumbles, “Have you got any more open-ocean adventures planned? Tell me now so I can go get a 50-gallon bucket of sunscreen and another of conditioner.”

Oscar flops down on the bed and pulls out his phone. “I think the ocean can handle a few days without us.” Does he want to look up his and Cam’s names? There’s no way anyone could have figured out where they are, so what is it he’s hoping to find? More of his mom crying?

Cam seizes his wrist and pulls him up. “Come on, then.”

“What?”

“We’re going to get clothes. Clubbing clothes.”

“Oh, we’re doing that?”

“I stand by what I said—you need to experience getting hungover at least once in life.”

Cam’s idea of clubbing clothes is apparently a lot of black—black jeans, all ripped up, black t-shirt, then a muscle shirt, then a tank top that barely covers friggin anything.

“Why?” Oscar asks, partially horrified.

“If you look good enough, you won’t have to pay for drinks at all,” Cam says. He sizes Oscar up. “Not sure exactly what else to do with you…”

Oscar sputters, but Cam marches to the checkout counter. As they leave the store, he mutters that Oscar should head back to the hotel and shower, he’s going to find a drugstore.

“What for? We don’t need sunscreen in a club, do we?” He’s joking, of course, but Cam gives him a shove.

“Just normal stuff, like Tylenol and all that,” he says, defensive. His ears are getting red.

“Get some aloe while you’re at it, I think your sunburn’s getting worse.”

Cam waves him off. “Whatever, see ya in a bit.”

So Oscar heads back to the hotel and stops to bring the new clothes to the laundry room, just to be thrown in the dryer, and then he heads back to his room and gets in the shower. Actually, he’s kind of excited about going clubbing. He’s never been before, obviously, and it is something he feels like he needs to check off his bucket list.

Once he gets out of the shower, he stops to actually check his reflection and wonder how he looks to other people. His hair is really starting to grow in, his roots are obvious, but it doesn’t look bad to him…would someone else find it sloppy? He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and it stays for a second before flopping back on his forehead. Actually, it didn’t look half bad back. Cam definitely bought hair gel…

He finds the gel and uses a little to keep his hair back. Not bad, he must say. He squints at his reflection and sighs at his lack of facial hair. Clearly, his dad didn’t pass that gene onto him. Oh well, a beard probably wouldn’t match this kind of hairstyle.

By the time Cam comes back, the clothes have just been brought back from the laundry room.

“What’d the maid want?” Cam asks.

Oscar eyes the shirts suspiciously. “I asked them to throw these clothes in the dryer…I think they may have shrunk.”

“They didn’t shrink…wait, why the dryer?”

“It’ll kill any gross stuff clinging to the clothes, you know like lice or just dead skin cells. When you don’t have time to wash…what the heck?”

Cam bursts into laughter. “You…absolute…dork!” He snorts. “Do you have any idea how filthy clubs are?!”

“I do, but it’s not like I’m not wearing the club floor,” Oscar says, miffed. “Who knows who tried these pants on before we bought them?”

“Twinks,” Cam says, deadpan.

“’Scuse me?”

“Never mind. Nice job on your hair, by the way.”

Oscar reaches for his hair, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“No, I’m serious,” Cam says. “It looks good.”

Before Oscar can thank him, Cam shoves the barely-there tank top at him. “And it’ll look even better with this.”

“Fuck off!” Oscar shouts flinging the shirt away.

Cam rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll wear it and get the free shots.”

Oscar goes for the muscle tank, it’s more modest than that damn tank top.

They leave for the club at nine and walk, it’s not far away and it’s a nice evening. True to his word, Cam wore the tank top, and he’s attracting several appreciative looks. Oscar can’t understand why, it’s not like he’s that muscular. In his opinion, Cam looks like a string bean.

They join the line of people waiting to get in, but it moves quickly. Oscar can hear and feel the thump of music from outside the club, even if he can’t tell what song is playing. They show the bouncer their fake IDs, and she barely glances at them before waving them in (maybe something to do with money Cam hands her? Or is that the cover fee?). Upon entering, Oscar’s eardrums are nearly blown out and he’s momentarily blinded by a flash of light, by the time he can see again, Cam has guided him to the bar, and the first thing Oscar sees is an enormous rainbow flag hanging behind the shelves of alcohol.

“This is a gay bar?” He blurts, looking around.

“It’s an everything bar,” Cam says, and Oscar realizes that there are more flags—he recognizes the trans flag, and the bi flag, and there are many more. There are all combinations of couples on the dance floor, and by the bar.

The bartender slides four shot glasses to Cam and Oscar, and Cam raises one towards Oscar in a toast. “To your health,” he says.

“Nostrovia,” Oscar answers automatically. He watches Cam throw back the shot, and then mimics him. The alcohol burns, but he doesn’t cough or flinch too badly.

“Not bad,” Cam says appreciatively. He nods at the remaining two shots. “Take those.”

“Both of them?” Oscar shouts as the song changes. “What about you?”

“I’m here to make sure we get back safely,” Cam says. “This is your bucket list. Take the shots, and go dance.”

“But I can’t dance.”

“Duh, that’s what the shots are for. They’ll cure you of that real quick. Actually…” He leans over the bar and asks for water. He hands the glass off to Oscar. “Drink that first.”

And Oscar, knowing that he’ll regret it if he doesn’t get drunk in a club and have a massive hangover once in his life, drains all three glasses.

The alcohol is disgusting, but Cam is right, it does make Oscar forget that he can’t dance. He’s probably not dancing well, but who cares? The room is fuzzy and feels like it’s spinning, and Oscar feels light and happy. He keeps smiling and laughing for no apparent reason. Cam finds him periodically and hands him either shots or water, Oscar drinks whatever it is without complaint. People keep finding him, dancing with him and getting way closer than he realizes before suddenly they’re grinding up on him. But it’s fine, it’s fun. He’s having a great time! This is possibly the best night of his life!

Which is why he’s so confused when Cam drags him out.

“We haven’t been here that loooong!” Oscar whines as Cam waves down a taxi.

“It’s been five hours, dude,” Cam says. He’s smiling, and he looks somewhat smug.

“Wha’s with your face?” Oscar asks.

“You are going to be so fucked up tomorrow,” Cam says with a laugh. “You need to drink when we get back to the hotel.”

“Yes, more drinks!” Oscar cheers.

“Oh god,” Cam sighs. A cab rolls up and Cam shoves him into it. “I wish I had a camera.”

“Haha, Cam and camera,” Oscar says. He leans against the window, it’s cool and he feels warm. Cam gives the driver the hotel address, and they drive off.

“Di’n’t we walk here?” Oscar asks.

“Yeah, but I’m not walking you home like this.”

‘Home.’ The word makes Oscar’s gut feel funny. Sad for a minute, then angry, then he just hiccups.

“What day is it?” Oscar asks.

“Wednesday, no Thursday now.”

Oscar presses his hand to the window. “Where are we?”

“Saipan.”

“I like it here,” Oscar says. He pushes off from the window and falls into Cam. “Let’s stay here forever and ever. Let’s just ever leave. Never leave.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

Oscar sighs. “You’re a good friend. I’m sorry I hated you. I’m sorry I dragged you up hell mountain. You didn’t have to do that but you did.”

“Oh thank god!” Cam cries, “We’re back! Come on, on your feet you lousy drunk.”

Cam exits the car and Oscar falls over. Wait, wasn’t he just leaning on someone? “Help meeee,” he moans, flinging his arm over his head.

Next thing Oscar knows, he’s leaning against the bed, and Cam is pushing a bottle of water on him. “C’mon, down the hatch. And go to the bathroom, will ya? And brush your teeth while you’re in there, too!”

Oscar complies; water first, then bathroom, then teeth. His head’s a little clearer now that he’s in the familiar room, and he can actually see, and his hearing is slowly returning. He does drop the whole tube of toothpaste and decides to just leave it there, he can’t bend down right now.

Oscar goes back to the main room, shedding his shirt along the way. He starts to wrestle with the pants, needing to sit in order to peel them off. They get stuck on his ankles.

“Cam, help,” Oscar whines, flopping down on the bed.

Cam rolls his eyes as crosses the room, helps Oscar out of the pants, and then flops down on the bed next to him.

“Oscar, are you a virgin?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says automatically.

“Do you want to change that?”

Oscar’s brain doesn’t know how to process that. “How?”

Cam sighs. “Well, I would…help. Somehow. I was gonna offer tonight but I think you’re too fucked up.”

Oscar stares at him. “You? Like, you, you?!”

Cam stares (almost too hard) at the ceiling. “Yeah, me. I’m the only one here, ya know, and I’m not about to send you off with some random girl we don’t know, that’s how people lose their organs in movies.”

“But-but you, you’re…you!” Oscar stammers.

Cam finally turns his glare on Oscar. “Yeah, I’m me,” he says.

And Cam isn’t in to guys, or at least he’s never indicated he was. And Oscar’s not really into them either. So…

“Why?” Oscar asks. “Why would you offer that when you don’t even…have you ever…with another guy before?”

“No,” Cam says. “But you’re dying and I feel sorry for you.”

That gets Oscar’s fuzzy brain to focus. No, that has to be a lie, nobody offers to…well, offers sexual favors because they feel sorry…actually maybe they do. But not Cam, never Cam. He’s much too proud for that.

Oscar sits up. “You don’t feel sorry for me,” he mumbles. “Or if you do, that’s not why you’d do that.” He looks down, now acutely aware that he’s just wearing his boxers. He stumbles to his feet and puts on a shirt. When he sits back on the bed and looks at Cam, he’s looks faintly flushed and kind of like he wants to disappear.

“Forget it,” Cam says. “We’re both drunk, or tipsy in my case, I doubt you’ll remember this in the morning.”

But how can Oscar forget this? Now that the idea’s in his head, he can’t stop thinking about it. He thinks he’s spent more cumulative time with Cam than even with Josslyn, and speaking of, he’s barely thought about her at all in days, at least not in relation to missing her. Cam’s been his rock for weeks now, they’ve moved past casual friendship and have gone to…

To…

He’s spilled his guts to Cam, they’re sharing a bed, and they’re seeing the world together. He’s had all kinds of firsts with Cam, he had a seizure in front of Cam and it was the only time he’s ever seen Cam ready to cry with fear. They never did talk about that. He knows Cam just as well as he knows Josslyn.

They’ve basically done everything but kiss. And…would that be so bad?

“Wouldn’t you regret it?” Oscar hears himself asking.

That seems to throw Cam off. “Why should I?” He asks.

“You don’t like me,” Oscar says, then backtracks. “Not like that, I mean. And…are you a virgin? Shouldn’t you want…I don’t know…someone else?”

Cam pushes himself up on his elbows. “I don’t know what I want,” he admits. “Like I said, I feel sorry for you.”

“Liar,” Oscar says.

Cam makes a face. “This again?”

“You haven’t felt sorry for me in weeks.”

“It would be really shitty of me not to feel sorry for you, you’re dying!” Cam says, scowling.

“You’re not sorry,” Oscar presses, “You’re scared!”

Cam sneers and sits up. “Well it’s no picnic, wondering if I’m going to wake up next to a dead body and then wonder what I’ll do about it, what I’ll tell your mom and dad and Joss, I’m scared of that! And you know what? Maybe I’ll actually miss you when you’re gone!”

This is depressing, and if it continues Oscar might cry. “Well, I’m scared too!” he shouts, “I’m trying really, really hard not to think about it but I know every night could be my last and…and I’ll miss you too!”

“You can’t miss people when you’re dead,” Cam says, his voice breaking.

“Stop crying!” Oscar demands, reaching out to shove Cam weakly. “What do you know? You’re not dead!”

“Neither are you!” Cam says.

They freeze, and then they both start laughing. Oscar laughs so hard he cries, and then he just puts his head in his hands and sobs. He’s starting to feel nauseous, his head hurts, and his heart is racing.

Oscar hears a sniffle and he looks up. Cam is wiping his eyes. “This is so fucked up.”

“Don’t think about it,” Oscar says. “That’s what I do.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Cam says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “That’s why we’re both crying, isn’t it?”

Oscar manages a smile. “I’m glad it’s you with me,” he admits, suddenly. “You definitely make things interesting and…and I like being around you.”

Cam rolls his eyes. “Oh, wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

“Oh, you want to feel special?” Oscar asks, and he leans over and kisses Cam.

It’s a solid two seconds, but then Cam starts kissing him back.

_‘This is interesting,’_ Oscar think to himself. He inches closer, reaching down to brace himself on the bed, but instead his hand lands on top of Cam’s. He grabs hold and squeezes, and Cam squeezes back, and then suddenly Cam is gone.

“I’m gonna…go shower,” Cam blurts, and then he bolts for the bathroom.

Oscar blinks at the empty space where Cam was. Was that…did he do something wrong?

It didn’t…feel like he did. Wasn’t that a natural progression? He lays down where Cam was, grabs a pillow and squeezes it. He hopes he didn’t do anything wrong. He doesn’t want Cam to be mad at him. He’ll ask Cam when he gets back, if he’s mad.

But Cam takes a long time to come back, and in that time, Oscar falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to Saipan or Kilimanjaro for that matter, so...take my portrayals with a lot of salt.


	3. Never Getting Older

Before he even wakes up, Oscar knows he has a headache. He dreams he has a headache, he’s trying to take a math test, no a science test, no he’s changing a tire…but his head hurts and he can’t think!

“Owwww,” Oscar moans.

“Oh, he lives,” Says Cam’s voice.

There’s a hand on his own, and then there’s pills in his palm. Hands pull him up by the shoulders.

“I’ll get you water.”

Oscar manages to open one eye. It’s dark, sort of—there’s a little light sun, though the curtains are closed, and the lights are off. He blinks and Cam is in front of him, holding a glass of water. Oscar takes the pills, drinks the water. Cam takes the empty glass and Oscar grabs his wrist before he can walk away.

“I kissed you,” he says.

Cam freezes and his eyes widen. “Aw, fuck,” he mutters.

Oscar tightens his grip. “I had to ask you something…” he can’t remember what it was.

Cam shakes him off. “I’m going to shower.”

“You did that last night!” Oh, now he remembers. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yes,” Cam says, no hesitation.

Oscar’s stomach plummets. “You are?”

Cam starts to walk away.

“Wait, why?” Oscar calls after him.

Cam stops and turns around. He looks mad. “Idiot,” he spits, “You kissed me!”

Oscar’s head throbs. He feels cold. “I don’t feel good,” he says.

Cam snatches a garbage can and holds it under Oscar’s mouth, but that’s not what he’s feeling…

He can’t breathe…

“Breathe!” Cam is yelling, and no _shouting_ damnit his head hurts!

“Come on, look at me,” Cam begs.

He smells something sharp and bad…

“Oscar? Come on dude, say something!”

“Nnngh…”

“Oh, god…”

Oscar inhales deeply. The smell is gone. And…

_Shit. _

“Bathroom.”

Cam hauls him up—ouch, ouch, _ow that hurts_—and quickly shoves him into the bathroom.

Oscar read about seizures, that sometimes people lose control of their bowels during or after. Thank god he didn’t piss himself in front of Cam, because that would be super embarrassing. Especially since they kissed last night. After Cam offered sex. Yeah, that’s a conversation that needs to be had.

Last night he thought to himself that he’s never really been into guys, but all the progressive media he’s consumed says that gender shouldn’t matter, one should only look at a person. And he had realized that he and Cam have spent a lot of time together, and gotten to know each other really well, and Oscar’s been really…well, in a way he’s been taking Cam for granted. He’s never really stopped to think about what Cam sacrificed by coming along with him, not just his family but something more intangible; Cam’s watching him _die._ That’s got to fuck a person up. He should tell Cam all of this. He needs to clean up and get out of the bathroom.

Oscar washes his hands, then his face. He squints at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s pale, his eyes are bloodshot and look bruised, and he’s gotten thinner, even though he’s eating a lot. He can’t remember how long they’ve been in Saipan. He can’t remember how long it’s been since he found out about the tumor.

It hits him—he probably doesn’t have that much time left.

Oscar falls to the floor, shaking. He covers his face and sobs.

The doorknob turns but the door doesn’t open.

“Oscar?! Are you okay? Open the door!”

Oscar doesn’t remember locking the door. He hugs his knees to his chest and rocks back and forth, but that just makes him nauseous so he flops over on his side. His head slams into the shower door.

“OUCH!” Oscar yells.

“Open up!” Cam shouts.

Oscar clutches his head. “Shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up you fucking idiot!”

Still on the floor and holding his head, Oscar crawls to the door and unlocks it. Cam shoves his way in and kneels next to him.

“What’d you do?” He demands.

“I hit my head,” Oscar says.

“You were crying,” Cam tells him.

“Yeah I know,” Oscar says, managing to sound pissed. He’s still crying.

“Why? That was before I heard you hit your head.”

“Because I’m dying!” Oscar yells—it echoes, ouch.

Cam falls silent.

This time when Oscar lies down, he manages to not hit his head on anything. He curls up in a ball and shuts his eyes. Fuck, why can’t he think straight?

Straight…oh yeah, speaking of…

“Is that why you’re mad?”

“What are you talking about now?” Cam asks.

“You’re straight,” Oscar says, by way of explanation. “Is that why you’re mad?”

“No,” Cam says, “I’m…I mean yes! I mean…oh, fuck you, okay?”

Oscar manages to laugh.

“I will punch you,” Cam threatens, “You complete and total asshole, why the fuck did you kiss me?”

Why the fuck did you offer to help me lose my virginity? Is what Oscar wants to ask, but his head’s not clear enough for that. “I thought…” he begins.

“That’s the last thing you were doing,” Cam interrupts, “Because if that was true, you would have thought about Josslyn.”

Oscar sits up. This was something he thought about last night. “She’s not here,” he says. Wrong thing to say.

“So what, you’ve forgotten her?”

“No! I just mean—”

“No, you don’t get to do this. When you die I’m going to tell Josslyn that she was your one and only, that you thought of her all the time and you regretted breaking up with her. I’m not going to tell her that you went and kissed me. That was a decision you made while drunk and I will not go down that path with you. Not then, not now, not in the future, okay?”

Well, now Oscar’s mad. He sits up—Cam’s scowling at him, and he shoves Cam hard.

“Fuck you,” Oscar says.

“Excuse me?” Cam asks, incredulous.

“You don’t get to tell me what I was thinking,” Oscar says, his voice rising with every word. “I am so sick and tired of everyone thinking that they somehow know what’s going on in my head! No one knows what’s going on in my head!”

“Are you seriously saying you blame the tumor for this?” Cam asks.

“No, stupid!” Oscar shouts, “I’m saying I fucking like you, goddamnit! And if that makes me a horrible fucking person then fine! Go home and tell Josslyn that I kissed you and you thought it was disgusting! Tell her that I don’t love her or I never did, I don’t fucking know! I don’t know anything about what’s happening right now! You were going to…to…fucking what last night? You asked if I was a virgin, you said you’d do something to fix it!”

“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything!” Cam yells.

“And then you flip out when I kiss you?!” Oscar shouts over him. “You have some fucking nerve! Well guess what?! I’m not drunk anymore and I still like you!”

“No!” Cam shouts, pushing Oscar hard, he slams into the shower door again. “You selfish jerk! I thought that was why you broke up with Joss! You think it’s okay for her to not watch you die but I’m supposed to, what, not mind it? That’s completely unfair! You’re not the only one who’s going to lose something!” Cam gets up and storms out of the bathroom.

Oscar struggles to his feet. He thinks Cam is crying. He feels sick again. He hopes he’s not going to have another seizure.

In the main room, Cam is flinging stuff into his suitcase.

Oscar’s stomach fucking drops. “Wh-what are you doing?” He gasps.

“I’m fucking cleaning up,” Cam snaps, turning around. He freezes. “Oscar?”

“Don’t leave,” Oscar says…begs? Is he begging? “I didn’t mean I wanted you to go home now.” His throat feels like it’s closing and his hands are shaking.

Cam looks lost. “I’m…I’m not, Jesus,” he says. “I swear, I really was just cleaning up.”

Oscar exhales and he stumbles to the bed, sitting down before his knees give out. Everything comes rushing at him at once—relief, anger, fear, the realization that he would have pleaded on his knees for Cam to stay with him. He may have planned to do this alone but actually, he really doesn’t want to be alone, not now.

Cam sits on the opposite side of the bed. Their backs are to each other. They’re both silent for a really long time. Long enough that Oscar’s head stops hurting so much, but his heart is still racing. Oscar knows he should say something, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what to say.

Cam is the first to break the silence. “Sorry.”

That’s a surprise. “That’s my line,” Oscar tries to joke.

“No, you were right,” Cam says, his voice quiet. “I shouldn’t have offered what I did.”

Oh, right, that was a conversation they needed to have. Oscar turns slightly. Cam still isn’t looking at him. “I wouldn’t have said yes no matter how much I like you,” he says. “I know you only offered because you felt obligated. And…I’m not ready for that, and I don’t want to do it just because I’m dying.”

Cam shuts his eyes and lowers his head. To Oscar’s shock, he starts to sob.

“What…?”

Cam rubs a hand over his face. “You have no business being this goddamn noble,” he says.

Oscar is confused, but continues. “I’m also sorry I kissed you…?” he ends up stating it as a question as Cam turns to face him and holds out his hand. Oscar takes it, more confused with each second.

“I kissed you back,” Cam says. “And…fuck, I wouldn’t be freaking out if it weren’t for the tumor.”

Oscar feels his jaw drop. Wait, what?

“I meant it though, about how it wasn’t that now I have to be the one to watch you die.”

Well, he had that thought himself, but for a second it kind of offends him anyway. “You made the decision to come with me! I didn’t ask you!” He covers his mouth. “Damn, no, I’m sorry, I know—” He tugs on his hair. “Ugh, I know you don’t deserve to watch me die any more than Joss did. I know I didn’t ask you to come but I am…happy you’re here.”

“Yeah, I am too,” Cam says, “It’s not fair but…I’m not blaming you for it. I didn’t plan on liking you this much. I thought it’d be cool if we just got to be friendly with each other. I even didn’t want to get that close to you, since I kind of know what it’s like to lose someone. My dad is at least alive, I can call him and stuff, but it hurts to not have him…here. It’s not like I’ll be able to call you…” Cam swallows. “Not to make it all about me but I’m scared. I can’t imagine how scared you must be. And I understand why you didn’t want her here, because this…”

“Sucks?” Oscar offers.

Cam nods. He’s still crying.

They’re quiet again for a few minutes, still holding hands. Finally, Oscar can’t hold back the question that’s now burning on his tongue.

“How long?”

Cam takes his hand back, wipes his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I started thinking about it after that first seizure, it kinda hit me then that…you know, you’re really sick. And I started thinking about what it would be like to…not have you around anymore, and it hit me that I would really, really miss you. And then I had this feeling in my stomach, like dread and regret, and it took me a while to figure out that I liked you more than I thought I did and I might never actually tell you.” He clears his throat. “What about you?”

Oscar shrugs. “I honestly don’t know. I know it didn’t start last night, though.” He’s just…not been really thinking about it. Like he’s been doing with a lot of things. Cam’s really been through a lot of ups and downs with him, and maybe this feeling has been there since that day, back in New York, when Cam shoved him into a hotel bathroom and laid out this well-thought plan and invited himself along for the ride. Oscar had kind of been in awe of that.

The lapse into silence again. At some point Oscar flops down on his back, and Cam follows suit. Their heads are level, but there’s at least a foot between them and they’re still on opposite sides of the bed. If Oscar closed the distance, they’d recreate the Spiderman kiss. That’s kind of been on his bucket list.

“I was thinking last night,” Oscar says, “It was kind of natural, wasn’t it? We’ve been through a lot in the past….what, month? We’ve pretty much been glued together. Wasn’t it almost guaranteed we’d end up kissing at some point?”

“No clue, I’ve never been in this situation before,” Cam grumbles.

“You didn’t exactly confirm if you’re straight or not,” Oscar prompts.

Cam sighs. “I never let myself think about it. Not even with what people were saying about Aiden. Especially not then. I knew what would happen to me if I ever acted like I was anything but straight. And I knew it would get worse for him, too.”

In a way, Oscar supposes it’s the same for him. No matter what progressive media says…it’s always easier when it’s someone else on the receiving end of dark looks and hateful comments. It’s easy to feel bad for those kids at school, and sitting with them at lunch versus holding hands with a boy on the way to school…there’s no comparison. “Probably wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t run off.”

Cam snorts. “Don’t tell me you regret it.”

No, not for anything. “What are you going to tell Joss?” he asks.

Cam doesn’t answer for a long time. Oscar turns his head and finds Cam staring at him.

“What do you want me to tell her?” He finally asks.

Oscar moves closer. “Tell her the truth.”

“Yeah?”

Oscar nods. “You can be there for each other,” he says. “If she still…if she doesn’t hate me, or you for it, which I bet she won’t because she’s just that great, but at least then you’ll know what each other feels.”

Cam sits up, and Oscar wonders if he’s said the wrong thing, but Cam just rearranges himself so he and Oscar are laying side by side. He leans over Oscar, frowning.

“Look at you, already figuring out how other people are going to cope with your death. That’s so you.”

Before Oscar can think of a comeback, Cam is kissing him.

Oscar didn’t think about it before, but it’s quite different from kissing Josslyn. It makes sense, Cam is his own person, but it’s kind of surprising too. Cam cups his jaw, then his hand slides into Oscar’s hair. After a moment Oscar pushes at Cam’s shoulders until he sits up, and Oscar follows. He pulls Cam back for another kiss with a hand on the back of his neck.

It’s…sweet. Comfortable. The world didn’t stop turning because he and Cam started kissing.

This definitely would have never happened if they’d stayed in Port Charles. Oscar’s glad they left.

It’s been a long day. They don’t end up really doing anything, aside from…well, everything. Finally it occurs to Oscar that he should probably eat, or he’s going to have another seizure. They order room service and devour everything, then they just...stare at each other.

“So what now?” Oscar finally asks.

Cam shrugs. “Fuck if I know.”

Oscar scoot up to the headboard and leans against it. It’s evening, his head feels a lot better.

“I had my first hangover,” he says, “We can cross that off the bucket list.”

Cam laughs. “Oh yeah, that.”

“What’d I drink last night anyway?” Oscar asks.

“Mostly tequila, I told you—” he breaks off as Oscar gags. “What?! I thought you were better!”

“I was,” Oscar says, making a face. “I just…I remembered and…that word!”

“Tequila?”

Oscar gags again. “Ugh, stop!” he cries, kicking at Cam. He remembers being in the club, downing shots and the taste in the back of his throat, oh man how did he drink that stuff?

Cam is laughing, the absolute jerk.

“I hate you,” Oscar grumbles.

“You liiiiiiiike me,” Cam sings.

“I take it all back,” Oscar insists.

Cam gets up and grabs his notebook off the dresser. “Hangover, check. Man, I’ve been behind on this thing. Should I add kiss a boy?”

“No,” Oscar says. “It’s not a conquest.”

Cam looks torn between amusement and fury. “You really are a noble piece of shit.”

“That sounds like an oxymoron.”

“I could touch that, but I won’t,” Cam says. He sits on the bed. “Do you want to stay here?” He asks.

Oscar knows instantly what he’s asking. “I don’t know,” he says. “It wouldn’t be a bad place to…you know.”

Cam looks away. “Okay, but…if it gets bad, I think you should go to a hospital.”

Ah, it’s time for this conversation. “We’d be found out.”

“I know,” Cam says. “But if you’re in pain…”

Oscar has been trying not to think about it. He can’t imagine the end will be painless, not for him. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “You can take me to a hospital. Or, call an ambulance. Whatever.”

“Language could be a barrier,” Cam hedges.

It hasn’t so far, but Oscar gets it. “Where do you want to go?” he asks.

Cam taps his notebook. “How do you feel about Australia?”

That night, Cam buys two plane tickets on his phone. The visas are quickly approved. They leave in 36 hours.

There’s one more thing Oscar wants to do before he leaves.

He saw the tattoo parlor on the way to the club. It looks pretty legit, well-lit and modern. He’s been thinking about this for a while, and he figures it’s now or never.

It’s a simple tattoo—a map of the world, simple outlines of the continents, across his ribs, under his right arm. He’s seen people do similar things, get the countries and providences colored in as they visit them, but Oscar just wants stars, tiny, red stars, that mark the places he’s been. Two in America, one on the east coast, the other where Texas would be. One in Africa, and one on a tiny island in the Pacific Ocean.

Cam takes a picture of it when it’s done, and agrees that it looks pretty damn good.

* * *

They land in Sydney, Australia on November 1st. They pay for a new phone plan in the airport, then grab a cab. They’ve missed Halloween, and they’ve been missing from Port Charles for over a month. Oscar is still amazed that they haven’t been arrested after flying on three separate occasions. Passport dude should probably be a spy, or something.

At the hotel, Oscar falls into the bed and mumbles at Cam to turn the lights out, his head is killing him. Cam gives him pills, and it only helps a little. Cam makes him drink, orders food and makes him eat.

“How much money do we have left?” Oscar asks when he’s feeling better.

“Enough,” Cam says.

They have a pretty awesome view of the harbor, and a balcony (veranda?) from which to view it. Oscar’s feeling well enough to watch the sunset. Cam brings his phone and tells Oscar that they’ve got to take selfies.

“Why?” Oscar groans. He’s taken more selfies in the last month than he has in his life.

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re dating?” Cam asks, batting his eyelashes. Oscar shoves him, and Cam gasps. “How could you treat me this way?”

He’s doing this on purpose, Oscar knows it. He’s been trying to keep Oscar distracted all day, poking him, holding his hand, kissing him…he had to buy makeup before they left Saipan, Oscar looked so pale Cam said he was afraid they wouldn’t let him on the plane.

So Oscar smiles. They take pictures with the sun in their faces, then with the sun at their backs. Cam, still holding the phone out, holds Oscar’s chin and kisses him. The shutter snaps.

He did this with Joss, too.

Cam’s said that they’re dating, but they haven’t described themselves as ‘boyfriends.’ Well, not out loud. If they’re dating then…they kinda are boyfriends. But Oscar’s dying.

It can’t be long, he thinks that night as he lies awake with a pit in his stomach and lights dancing in front of his eyes. His head _hurts._

Oscar keeps his sunglasses on when they head out to explore Sydney. They go to the opera house (Oscar thought it’d be bigger), find a botanical garden nearby and go look at some flowers. There’s a pine tree that’s called a wishing tree, and Oscar and Cam walk around it. Three times forward, three times backward. They hold hands as they walk. Oscar, maybe pushing the tree’s magic, wishes that he won’t die. He wonders…is Cam wishing for it, too? They take more pictures, and Cam even takes some video of the two of them as they eat at ‘Maccas.’

“We’re at Maccas, mate,” Cam tells the camera in the phoniest Australian accent Oscar’s ever heard. Oscar shoves him and Cam shoves him back while yelling “Tequila!” and Oscar gags and shoves him so hard he drops the phone. Cam replays the video and obscene number of times.

They planned to go around the harbor and eat dinner at a fancy restaurant, but Oscar just isn’t up to it. They go back to the hotel and get room service. After they’ve finished Cam turns on the TV and they lay back against the fluffy hotel pillows. Oscar closes his eyes and dozes, his head against his chest until Cam tugs him gently, and his head lands on Cam’s shoulder. Oscar turns slightly into him, and finds his hand. He thinks Cam’s fingers are shaking, but it could be that it’s actually him shaking.

In the middle of the night, Cam shakes him awake.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!” Cam hisses.

“What?! What happened?” Oscar asks, he doesn’t feel like he had a seizure.

“You stopped snoring!” Cam says crossly, “I thought you weren’t breathing!”

Oscar grumbles that he doesn’t snore, and turns over on his side. He’s just about dropped off to sleep again when he feels Cam’s arm come to rest over his side. Oscar briefly thinks about shoving him away, but just sighs and keeps his eyes shut.

It occurs to him later, maybe Cam was doing it so he could feel Oscar breathing.

Oscar makes it for two more days. They do some sightseeing, taking it easy the whole time. They buy tourist-y t-shirts, go to a few museums (where Cam gets Oscar a wheelchair, because his legs are getting weak), and eat seafood. Cam keeps smiling, cracking jokes, and he makes Oscar smile too. He takes Oscar’s notebook full of things for Scout, and writes out more questions and answers.

“Do you believe in Bigfoot?”

“Yes, hundred percent.”

“Mothman?”

“Nope, that was a misidentified barn owl.”

“Seriously, dude? Okay um…how about Nessie?”

“Not a chance.”

“Yeti?”

“Same as Bigfoot.”

Oscar falls asleep on that fourth night with a headache. A few hours later he wakes up just in time to get Cam’s attention before he has a seizure.

It’s a lot worse than the other two, he can tell by the way he can hear Cam shouting, but can’t make out what he’s saying. The smell is back, and when the seizure is finally over, he feels like he got hit by a truck. His whole body aches so bad, and his vision is blurry and spotty.

“Oscar?” Cam asks.

It hurts to breathe. Oscar tastes blood—he bit his tongue. “Time to go,” he manages to whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. Or is it...?
> 
> I have actually been to Australia, it's a lovely country. The wishing tree is real, still waiting to see if it grants wishes though.


End file.
